


Becoming

by theramblinrose



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Caryl, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2019-08-26 19:32:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 51
Words: 131,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16687597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theramblinrose/pseuds/theramblinrose
Summary: Caryl, ZA/AU.  Starting Season 1.  Prequel to “Daddy,” but can stand alone.  His old man had always taught him that men were born to be just what they were and nothing more, but life was teaching Daryl that we are all always in a constant state of becoming—and we can become so much more than we may have once believed possible.





	1. Chapter 1

AN: This is the “back story” to “Daddy,” but it’s also simply a Caryl story starting in season 1. I asked what everyone wanted and it was pretty much a toss-up between a separate story and flashbacks. I toyed with it a bit and decided to put the chapters as a separate story. In the “Daddy” story, I’ll still be alluding to their past as I normally would in a story, but this way the actual detailed backstory is separate. This allows those that are not interested to avoid reading it, and it also allows those interested in this story to not read the other if they don’t want to. 

 

If you are interested, however, I’ll be exploring their early days throughout the story. This is not going to be some amazingly original story, so if that’s what you’re looking for then you might want to read something else. If you’re looking for a nice story that’s a little different than canon and follows our two lovebirds, this might be the story for you. This whole thing is a bit of (I admit) self-indulgent “write what you feel like writing/want to write” fluff and stuff for me, so I’m just going to write where the inspiration is. I hope it may be something that you can enjoy as well. 

 

At any rate, if you do read, I hope that you enjoy! As always, I greatly appreciate when you let me know what you think! 

 

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Daryl's father had tried to impart very little wisdom upon his two sons. Every now and again, though, he’d gone spouting off bullshit that both of them had tried to forget. Some of it stuck there, somewhere between Daryl’s ears. The few words that he remembered his father saying rang back to him from time to time. His old man said that a man was just born to be what the hell he was born to be. He’d never be any more than that. Some were born to be something and others were simply born to be nothing. Some men, like Daryl and his brother Merle, were mostly born to be a waste of time and space. 

 

If Daryl was looking to blame someone, he might say that it was his old man's words that had held him and Merle back in life. Maybe, if it hadn’t been for everything his old man had said, they both might’ve done something more with their lives. They might've gotten up in the morning, washed their faces, and become something more than what the hell they’d become. Maybe both of them would've been white-collar businessman making some kind of change in the world. Instead, they’d spent most of their lives doing blue-collar jobs that they abandoned too frequently to ever turn the jobs into something that paid a decent wage or promised some kind of future. 

 

More than anything else, Merle and Daryl didn’t finish anything. Maybe that’s how they were meant to be. 

 

Between the two of them, they never had a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out of, so to speak, but that's all that people like them were ever meant to have. There was really no need in wanting more when you didn't deserve it, and when you weren’t likely to have it. Wanting what the hell you couldn't have would only lead to disappointment.

 

Daryl knew about wanting when he couldn't have, and maybe Merle, but Merle had a better grasp on hiding shit. He was Daryl’s older brother by nearly a decade, and he’d had a lot more time to get used to their lot in life. When Daryl thought about the way the life could be, or maybe the way that it should be, he saw the fairytale story—or, at the very least, some kind of cheap and watered down redneck fairytale. He saw himself with a wife, a couple of kids, and maybe a dog. But that kind of shit wasn’t what the hell someone like him got. It wasn't what the hell someone like him deserved.

 

His old man had made that clear. 

 

Merle and Daryl weren’t worth shit, and no self-respecting woman was going to want a man who was made just to ruin her life. 

 

When it came to women, Merle seemed to understand more about what they deserved than Daryl did. He got everything it would seem that their old man thought they deserved. He got a veritable rainbow of venereal diseases, and he got lucky that everything he’d caught so far could be cured with antibiotics. He got women that didn’t stick around, and he got women that nobody would have wanted to stick around. Whether or not he was satisfied with what he got, Merle seemed to accept his lot in life. 

 

Daryl went the other way. Since he wasn’t good enough to have what he wanted, he figured that he’d just do without. It wasn’t worth the effort to end up with something—or someone— that was just a thorn in his side. 

 

Daryl had come to accept that his old man was right and things just were the way they were. Some people got what they wanted, and some people got just what they deserved. Some of them, like Daryl and Merle, ought to be damn happy that they got anything at all since they barely deserved the air that they breathed. 

 

At least when the world went to shit, Daryl and Merle Dixon didn’t have much to lose. 

 

Of course Daryl had wondered for some time how it was that certain assholes—of the variety that it struck him to believe didn’t deserve to have shit—somehow got lucky enough to get all the things that Daryl, himself, just wasn’t good enough to have.

 

His old man was one of those such assholes. He’d been an asshole of the greatest degree—and half the contributor of life to Merle and Daryl—but he’d ended up with a wife that was too damn good for him and two sons. Maybe his wife hadn’t been a top-shelf prize, and maybe his sons hadn’t turned out to be worth much, but he’d still gotten pretty much everything out of life that a man could really hope for.

 

And he’d pissed it all away. But he’d still gotten it. 

 

Daryl couldn’t quite understand, growing up, exactly how it was that the lots were drawn in life. 

 

And those thoughts continued to baffle him as he aged.

 

Daryl couldn’t stand Ed Peletier’s presence for more than five minutes at a stretch. Practically the very sight of the man drove Daryl to fits, and every time he opened his mouth, Daryl felt moved to chew a hole in the side of his face to keep from saying something that would surely piss Ed off.

 

Daryl didn’t really give two shits if he offended Ed Peletier for Ed’s sake, but rather that, if he offended him, he knew that Ed would take his frustration out on his wife’s face instead of on Daryl’s where his frustration should have been directed.

 

If he’d been the kind that would have thrown a punch at Daryl, Daryl would have insulted him often and early on. Then, when Ed’s fist came in his direction, it would have opened up the gates for Daryl to come out swinging. It would have given Daryl the chance to pound on the sorry asshole for a little while without anybody jumping in to scold him for his actions. But Ed Peletier would never throw that punch. Not at Daryl. Because Ed Peletier was the kind of man who punched his wife in the face instead of throwing punches at someone who could whip his ass for him like he deserved.

 

Ed was an even bigger coward then Daryl's old man, because at least Daryl's old man had been known to go a few rounds with assholes his own size. There was no doubt about it, he’d beaten his wife and his kids, but his anger and his brutality didn’t stop there. Ed, however, only doled out punches to the small-framed woman that he called his wife. The woman that, once upon a time, he must have promised to love and cherish. He knew she couldn’t physically overpower him, and so he gave her fresh bruises daily to wear on her face and arms. 

 

Yet, somehow, a man like that was the kind of man who had managed to deserve the little petite wife with the pretty face that he fucked up with his fists. He was somehow born to be the kind of man who had a tiny baby girl—born so close to the moment when the world went to shit that Daryl wasn’t really sure if she was born into this world of chaos or if she’d been born before, in the world that seemed ever more distant from reality. And, after everything had gone down and the world had sat back to count their losses, a man like Ed Peletier had managed to be born the kind of man who deserved to keep everything. He’d lost nothing.

 

But people like Daryl—who dreamed of having what Ed seemed content to shit on—seemingly deserved just about as much as Ed had lost. 

 

Daryl watched Ed from a distance, always trying to pretend that he had less interest in the woman that his brother called a mouse than he really did. He didn’t want to stir up any kind of jealousy in Ed. Daryl didn’t want to stir up any kind of negative feelings in Ed. Anything that got stirred up, he knew, would only be bad for the woman.

 

Her name was Carol, and she deserved more than that. She deserved more than Ed. 

 

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“I'm sorry you lost your brother.”

 

Daryl couldn't expect her to say that she was sorry that they had lost Merle. Merle hadn't been a very good addition to their group. He'd been drugged out of his damn mind since they’d found the group. He’d been hyped up on some crystal, or some shit that Daryl couldn’t name, that he’d found while they been raiding houses in search of anything that could help them survive. Nobody in the group was going to miss Merle, except for Daryl, and maybe Daryl only missed him because he was the only thing that Daryl still had from his old life. He was really the only thing that Daryl had ever had. And now he was gone, but the worst part about it was that he was gone without really being entirely gone. He had disappeared. He had vanished. But Daryl didn't know if he was really gone, or if he was still out there, somewhere, and only gone from Daryl. 

 

He thought about telling Carol that the Merle she knew, hyped up on whatever the hell he’d been taking, was just the Merle that was seeking some kind of comfort for some long-buried pain he had inside him. He just wanted some relief from the ache—and nothing had taken it away yet. Maybe nothing ever would. But he wasn’t the Merle that he could be when he was sober and he had a taste of hope for the future. He certainly wasn’t the Merle that Daryl believed he could be if the comfort that he sought was made readily available to him in some kind of entirely different and less-destructive form. 

 

Daryl didn’t tell Carol anything about Merle, because he found that he really couldn’t find the words to say anything that meant anything at all. Instead, he simply offered her a half-grumbled thanks for the small act of kindness she’d done him by acknowledging his loss. 

 

It was more than anyone else had done.

 

“Do you want to come and have some fish?” She asked. 

 

As much as he might like to pretend that he was contemplating some kind of starvation because of the sadness he felt over the loss of his brother, he was hungry, and he knew that food was scarce. When they had it, they had to eat it. Daryl got up from his spot, and started to follow Carol back toward the camp where everyone was gathered to enjoy what was a feast to all of them after some pretty meagre days.

 

Carol’s sleeping daughter was strapped close to her body in the carrier that the roughly six month old baby had probably spent most of her life in. The bruises on Carol's face were fresh, as was the busted lip. It had all happened earlier that day. And it all happened while they were gone looking for Merle. This time, it all happened right out there in the open instead of behind the cover of their tent. With it all out in the open, Shane had felt like he could take advantage of the opportunity to relieve some frustration on Ed's face. Shane’s frustration wasn't actually with Ed, but he’d used Ed just the same. Daryl appreciated that Shane’s target had been that asshole. Daryl thought that if he’d been at the camp, he might have accepted Ed’s public display of beating his wife as an invitation to finally do what he’d been thinking about doing since the first time he’d overheard the unmistakable sounds coming from their tent and seen Carol wearing purple marks on her skin over breakfast. Daryl might have given into his desires, and he might have done even more damage to Ed Peletier than Shane had. Shane, for his part, had made it so that Ed’s face looked like it had had an unfortunate encounter with a meat grinder.

 

And still it didn’t seem to be quite enough to Daryl, but there was nothing else to be done for the time being. 

 

They would have to watch him. Whenever he came back into himself, he would beat Carol within an inch of her life. Maybe he’d actually kill her. And if the baby were around...

 

Daryl had heard him say it more than once. The baby, Sophia, was just another mouth to feed. Maybe the asshole didn’t realize that voices drifted through cloth tent sides. Maybe he didn’t realize that they carried out there where there was nothing to be heard at night beyond the hoot of the occasional owl or the song of some bullfrogs serenading each other. Ed said that the baby would get them all killed with her crying. 

 

Sophia, for her part, cried a great deal less than Daryl had actually imagined a baby would cry—not that he’d ever spent a great deal of time in the company of infants. 

 

Ed said that her crying would get them all killed because the monsters would hear her and come looking for them.

 

He wasn't the only one to grumble about that. Daryl had heard several members of the group complain about the baby. This wasn’t the world for babies, they said, as though her mother had had the opportunity to time things just right, and as though she’d had some advanced knowledge about the impending doom that the world was facing. They acted as though she’d had the child just to spite all of them. 

 

Daryl hated to tell them all that they were a bunch of fucking idiots and that, if they got killed, it would most likely be because most of them didn’t know to watch their own ass with a mirror in their hands. 

 

Daryl wouldn’t be surprised, when Ed’s face healed up a bit, if he was feeling angry and ready to hurt someone. Daryl wouldn’t be surprised if, finding himself too chickenshit to hurt Shane like he would want to, Ed went after Carol to hurt her instead. He wouldn’t be surprised if the asshole, seeking to hurt her in the greatest way possible, went after that little baby. 

 

Daryl decided right then and there, following Carol toward the fire to eat fish, that he’d watch Ed Peletier like a hawk. If he so much as made a questionable move, he would find that Daryl was waiting for him. 

 

Daryl had a lot of his own anger to relieve, after all, at the injustices of this world. He’d been born, according to his old man from whom he must have inherited something, to be the kind of asshole that relieved anger with his fists. He might as well let Ed Peletier be on the receiving end of that anger—especially if Ed needed somebody to fight so badly that he was willing to go after his wife and daughter.

 

Daryl would give him someone to fight if he needed it. Someone who had been born for little else. 

 

He couldn’t fight nature, after all. 

 

He was just a man—and a man was born to be just what the hell he was and not a damn thing more.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: I don’t know if I need to say this, but this is only going to follow the show loosely. There are a lot of changes that I’m going to be making throughout the story.

At any rate, here’s another chapter. 

I hope that you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

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The Walkers could sometimes be a great deal stealthier than others. Sometimes they had the benefit of hearing them coming, and other times it was a surprise. 

That night it had been an unpleasant surprise to say the least. 

Amy was the first indication that they were surrounded by Walkers. She was bit before she even knew that they were surrounded. The giant herd of Walkers plowed through the camp, killed whoever they could, and did their best to feast on the flesh of everyone else.

They weren’t prepared. That was going to be their downfall in the end. As a group, they were truly ill-prepared for the world that they called home now. 

Most of their group members were unarmed. They had been enjoying dinner and they’d acted like they were untouchable. They’d forgotten that their reason for being out there like they were wasn’t a family camping trip at the rock quarry. When the Walkers had surrounded them, they’d had little choice except to run—and running really only got them so far. 

Of course, many of them, even if they had been armed, would have been pretty unable to protect themselves. They were counting on others to be able to keep them safe during everything that happened. Only some of them were really able, though, to protect themselves and offer protection to others.

Daryl was made for this world. He and his brother both were. It wasn’t bragging as long as it was truth. That’s what Daryl believed. And both Daryl and Merle had skills that were necessary to keep themselves and others alive.

Daryl was always armed and he always had something else close by to increase his ability to protect himself and others. Rick, Shane, and Dale also typically had some kind of protection. Still, that much protection didn’t go far when the Walkers were everywhere and people were scrambling for safety. Daryl had helped to keep off as many of the creatures as he could while Rick had helped to get arms in the hands of those who might be able to use them. Then, together, they’d all done their best to get rid of the monsters one by one.

When all was finally still, it was still dark. Everyone was shaky, mourning their lost, and afraid that every little shifting sound belonged to another Walker that was waiting to take a bite out of one of them. There was nothing they could do until the morning came. They couldn’t bury their dead—they couldn’t even find most of them—until the sun rose. At that point, using flashlights or lamps to work in the dark would do nothing except draw more Walkers to their camp—more than the ones that would probably come following all the sounds that the night had offered—and they certainly weren’t prepared for that. Everyone did what they had to do, and they simply found a place to sit and wait until they could see enough to figure out what their next moves were.

Dale sat with Andrea as she kept vigil over the body of her little sister—the first to die. Lori had taken her son inside the RV that Dale had brought with him, along with some of the other children of the camp, and Rick and Shane kept watch like sentinels outside. Each of them kept something of a guard over opposite ends of the RV. Here and there, people huddled together and tried to soothe each other’s suffering.

Daryl found Carol sitting only a short distance away from everyone, but slightly removed, on some old car seats that they’d placed around to serve as a place to rest. He invited himself to sit with her without a word, though he made sure to put a little empty space between them. He didn’t want her to think he was encroaching on her space, he was simply sharing the seating area. 

In her arms, the baby slept. 

“You don’t hardly ever put her down, do you?” Daryl asked.

“What?” Carol asked.

She was clearly not paying attention to him. She was clearly lost in her own thoughts—and of course she would be. They knew enough to know that the Walkers had come through the back part of their camp. It was the area where their tents had been set up and most of the tents had been torn down as the monsters had come stomping through them. A quick trip back to that area to make sure that the Walkers were done roaming around had confirmed that anyone back there was no longer a living member of the group.

Carol’s husband, Ed Peletier, had been in their tent recovering from the mincemeat face that Shane had given him earlier.

Carol was a newly minted widow and, more than likely, she had a great deal on her mind. Daryl didn’t know much about how one was supposed to go about comforting someone else. He especially didn’t know how one was supposed to address a new widow. Maybe it wasn’t even proper for him to be speaking to Carol and, perhaps, he wasn’t supposed to speak to her about anything except her now-deceased husband.

But Daryl didn’t want to talk about Ed Peletier, and he knew enough about their marriage to guess that Carol probably didn’t want to talk about him too much either. Besides, Daryl had always cared very little for what one was supposed to do in any given situation. So, rather than try to come up with something more suitable to talk about, he simply repeated what he’d said in case Carol hadn’t heard him before.

“The baby,” he said. “You don’t—you don’t hardly put her down.”

He heard a sound come from Carol and she readjusted her daughter in her arms.

“Sophia,” she said.

“What?” Daryl asked.

“Sophia,” Carol said. “Her name is...Sophia. The baby. She’s...Sophia.”

Daryl swallowed. Maybe he understood. Everyone talked about “the baby”. The baby didn’t sleep as much as they wanted her to, even though she slept a great deal. The baby made too many sounds, and she got too loud, even though many of them were a little over-the-top if they were trying to keep quiet. The baby cried too much, even though she hardly ever cried in Daryl’s opinion. 

The baby was a threat to all of them.

But the baby was, actually, just a baby. And her name was Sophia.

“Sophia,” Daryl said quietly. “Sophia. Yeah—I got it. Pretty name.”

“It was my grandmother’s name,” Carol said. 

Daryl hummed. He wasn’t too sure how one was supposed to respond to that, but he felt he should offer something. He’d already said it was a pretty name, so there was no need to reiterate that.

“I don’t know my grandma’s name,” Daryl said. “She was dead—at least as long as I could remember. My grandfather was Norman.”

Daryl was pretty sure that he heard Carol laugh quietly. 

“I like it,” Carol said. 

“I liked him,” Daryl offered. “He died when I was a kid.”

“I’m terrified to put her down,” Carol said after a moment of silence had passed between them.

“What?” Daryl asked.

“You said that I hold her all the time,” Carol said. “I’m terrified to put her down.”

“He’s gone,” Daryl said. “He won’t hurt her now.” Immediately Daryl realized that his words had slipped out of his mouth without checking with his brain first. He’d thought it and he’d let it come out. He’d never backed up to think whether or not he should say that to a new widow—or to any woman at all. “Sorry,” he added quickly. “Fuck...I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Carol said. “You’re right. He would’ve hurt her. And he was one of the reasons that I never put her down. But he wasn’t the only reason. It would only take a second and one of these—monsters...”

“They all cleared outta here,” Daryl said.

“For how long?” Carol asked. Daryl got the feeling that the question wasn’t really directed at him as much as it was simply a question that she was asking the universe. 

Daryl relaxed into the car seat. With everything happening around them—people talking in hushed tones, and the sound of weeping coming from nearly every direction—it felt like they were a world away. It felt like they were removed from everything and watching it from a distance. It felt like the two of them, sharing car seats in the Georgia woods, were in some kind of remote bubble.

And, as out of place as the emotion felt, Daryl felt comfortable and relaxed. 

When they’d first gotten there, Carol hadn’t spoken much to Daryl or his brother. Daryl had figured, at first, that she simply thought that she was better than them like everyone else at the camp. She would’ve been right, too. Most of them, probably, were better than any Dixon. It didn’t mean, though, that they didn’t still appreciate being talked to like people every now and again.

As time had gone on, though, and Daryl had become aware of her situation, he’d realized that Carol’s reluctance to speak to the two of them had very little to do with them and very much to do with her husband. He simply didn’t want her to speak to anyone and she tried to what he wanted—lest he take his frustrations out on her body.

She was easy to speak to when her husband wasn’t overshadowing her. He’d only been gone a matter of hours at the most and she already seemed like an entirely different person—the kind that didn’t mind sitting and talking to a Dixon like she would anybody else, like they were friends.

“They gone for the night at least,” Daryl said. His stomach twisted a little. He knew that it wasn’t just the Walkers that she worried about. It hadn’t been just her husband. The grumbling about the child wasn’t exactly kept under wraps, and she had to be aware of it. The worst part about it, perhaps, was that the grumbling was unfounded. It was just a way of finding something or someone to blame. It had, unfortunately, been the woman’s child who had caught the brunt of that blame being tossed around like a hot potato. “Nobody else’s gonna bother her none, either,” Daryl offered after a moment’s thought. “But you oughta get some sleep. She’s gonna need you to be awake tomorrow. On your game. We got a lot we gotta do.”

“I can’t sleep,” Carol said. “Not like this. Not after tonight.”

“Gonna be a lot of tonights that you gotta sleep after,” Daryl said. “These seats ain’t half bad as far as places to sleep go these days.”

Carol sat there a moment, cradling her daughter, and stared off at nothing. Daryl might have thought she was sleeping, but there was just enough moonlight to catch the moisture in her eyes and tell him that she was awake.

“I’ma be up,” he offered. “Keepin’ watch. Get some sleep. Don’t need everybody staggerin’ aroud half-dead tomorrow.”

“She’ll wake up soon,” Carol said.

“Then you’ll deal with that when you come to it,” Daryl said.

Daryl wasn’t sure how she’d respond to him being somewhat forceful with her, but she seemed to take it well. She listened to him, at least, and she stretched out over the car seats surrounding her. Stretching out caused her to touch Daryl as she lie down with her head next to him and her daughter cushioned between herself and the back of the seats.

“Sorry,” she breathed out.

“You fine,” Daryl offered. “Don’t bother me.” 

And he realized that he wasn’t lying. It didn’t bother him at all. In fact, he liked her being so close to him. He had always been the kind that got lonely. He’d always been the kind that craved some kind of closeness.

A fucking enigma.

That’s what his brother, Merle, had always called him. 

A fucking enigma. The sweet one. Baby brother.

Daryl couldn’t stand people because he’d learned, for the most part, that people were despicable on the whole. However, that didn’t mean that he didn’t long to find some good people out there that could fill his need to be around them. So far, he’d only really found Merle that he could stomach since they’d lost both their parents. Merle liked to pretend that he and Daryl were completely different, but they weren’t. Not at all in a lot of ways. Merle craved connection with people as well, but he simply sought it in different ways than Daryl. And maybe Merle—big brother and never baby brother—wasn’t what one would typically label as sweet, but he wasn’t who he pretended to be, either.

They had stuck together as long as they had because neither of them, if they were being entirely honest and their masks were stripped away, could stand the idea of being alone. They needed each other because they both needed someone—and nobody else would ever be there for the likes of them.

Now Merle was gone, though. 

Daryl didn’t know if he wished that Merle was alive out there, or if he preferred to think that Merle was dead because he didn’t like to think of how his brother might feel—abandoned on a rooftop by group members that didn’t know who he really was, or at least who he wanted to be, to cut off his own hand for survival against the elements. He didn’t want to think how his brother might feel wandering around, hurt and alone, without anyone or anything.

It might be better if Merle were simply dead somewhere. At least, then, Daryl might believe that he’d found some of the peace and comfort that he’d spent most of his life searching for in some of the worst ways possible.

Dead, for Merle, was probably a great deal better than alone.

Because even though they pretended that they didn’t need a single soul, being alone was a hard thing for a Dixon to stomach.

For someone who couldn’t sleep, Carol’s breathing had evened out pretty quickly. Daryl could feel the warmth of her from her proximity. He didn’t miss the fact that she’d fallen asleep in his presence—under some pretty terrible circumstances—lulled by nothing more than sheer exhaustion and the promise that he was keeping watch. He didn’t miss that fact at all, and it made his chest catch in an odd sort of way.

Daryl shifted and got comfortable, but not comfortable enough so that he would fall asleep and fail to keep his promise to the woman sleeping next to him with her baby girl hugged safely against her body.

At least tonight, Daryl wasn’t going to be alone.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Here we are, another chapter here. 

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

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Daryl was tired of dragging bodies and driving pickaxes through brains, but it had to be done. He would have preferred if it didn’t need to be done in such sweltering conditions, though. The flies buzzed around him, and he wasn’t sure if their interest was in his sweat or the blood and guts that coated him while he worked. 

Rotting corpses from the Walkers to one side. They went into the fire.

People they knew to the other side. They were bound up in sheets and buried.

Some of them were so chewed up that it was difficult to tell which group they belonged to. 

Daryl stood over what was left of Carol’s husband and nudged the corpse with his foot. Whoever had been responsible for cleaning up that area of the camp had sort of piled up the bodies to be “dealt with” so that they wouldn’t come back. The body of Ed Peletier had fallen into a pile that was a mix of Walkers and people they knew. 

He was so chewed up that Daryl had almost mistaken him for a Walker and sent him off to be burned. It was only his realization that the flesh that remained didn’t look too rotted that had made him stop a moment.

The asshole that had tortured Carol for as long as Daryl had known her was reduced to this—and there wasn’t much there. 

Daryl lifted his lip at the corpse before he wiped his forehead with the back of his arm and reached to retrieve the pickaxe that he’d dropped a moment to let his screaming muscles rest.

“I’ll do it.” 

Daryl jumped when he heard her voice. He turned to see her walking up. Her daughter, as always, was present. The baby was awake and strapped to her mother’s chest. Carol rested her hand on her daughter’s back as she walked. 

“What?” Daryl asked.

“It’s Ed,” Carol said. “Someone said that—that he was over here. It’s him, isn’t it?” 

“I think so,” Daryl admitted.

“I’ll do it,” Carol said.

She reached for the pickaxe and Daryl pulled it back before she could grab it. He shook his head at her. 

“You don’t gotta,” he said. “I can do it.”

He was sure that the man was an asshole, but he had still been Carol’s husband. She had still had some feelings for him at some point in her life. Daryl didn’t want to assume that he’d managed to kill each and every one of those feelings—even if he somewhat guessed that he had since she seemed to be not at all grief stricken over her loss.

“I should do it,” Carol said. “I need to. He was—he was my husband.”

She reached for the pickaxe again and Daryl handed it over. It sagged a little in her grip. It was probably heavier than she expected.

“You want me to—hold the baby or somethin’?” Daryl asked.

It didn’t need to be asked because, before he could get the words out, Carol had already lifted up the pickaxe and let it find its mark. Daryl heard the crunch as it made contact. The baby, resting against her mother’s chest, was as unbothered as she could be. She spent all her time with her mother. She rode along when her mother cleaned, cooked, and did any other odd job that they assigned her. She was equally unmoved to be there while her mother rid the world—once and for all—of her father as she had been for any other task that they’d done together.

Carol didn’t just accept that Ed was gone after the first swing, though, and hand the pickaxe over like Daryl thought she might. Instead, she lifted it again, this time with a little more energy behind it, and swung it once more at the corpse. 

Daryl watched her. She was crying, but it was quiet crying—not the ugly bawling that some people were doing today. Daryl assumed, too, that her crying was different than the crying of others. He didn’t want to be presumptuous, but he had a feeling that her tears weren’t over the loss of her husband as much as they were simply the release of emotions that she’d pent up for so long.

Eventually she gave the pickaxe back to Daryl and wiped her face with the back of her arm before she walked off. She didn’t say anything to Daryl about what had happened. She didn’t say anything about the fact that she’d crushed the skull of her once-husband to the point that it was unrecognizable as even a skull. He wouldn’t bother even trying to collect most of it up when he dragged the almost-headless body to be bound up and buried. 

Maybe she thought there was nothing left to say and Daryl, for his part, didn’t say anything to her. 

He did notice, though, that she never came to see about Ed’s body. And when they took the bodies up to be buried, she never once walked over to the hole where he was thrown to say goodbye. She’d bid Amy farewell, and she’d hugged Andrea and comforted her over her loss, but she’d never said goodbye to Ed. Nobody had said goodbye to Ed. 

Daryl had covered the sorry son of a bitch over with dirt. And even he hadn’t told him goodbye as he’d shoveled the earth back into place.

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“We can’t stay here,” Daryl said. “I don’t give a damn where you wanna go, but we can’t stay here.”

Daryl had ended up stumbling into what appeared to be a decision making meeting by accident. He’d gone to take a piss and he’d overheard something. He hadn’t been paying attention to Rick and Shane, and he didn’t realize that they’d isolated themselves from the rest of the group, so he was surprised to find them some short distance from the group talking about the future of everyone there like they didn’t have the sense to have a say in it. 

When he’d mentioned that fact, he’d been told that it was easier to have a plan to present to the group. Many of them didn’t have opinions and the rest were too shook up to want to offer anything. They just wanted some idea of what was going to happen, and it would be better if they decided that together and offered the information to the group.

Daryl had invited himself to be part of the decision making process.

“I vote we get as far away as we can as quickly as we can,” Shane said. “From everything we’ve seen, there’s nothing left. At least not around here. Atlanta’s done. We can assume that it wasn’t the only city the government cleaned out. We stand a better chance going further out. Away from the city. We don’t catch as many Walkers that way.”

“They were probably clearing out the dead,” Rick said. “Trying to control the Walkers.”

“They were killing people,” Shane said. “You didn’t see what we saw, Rick.”

“Atlanta’s still there,” Rick said. “We know it is. The government probably moved underground. They would try to find somewhere safe to regroup. They’d build safe communities. We just have to figure out where they are.”

“Burned to the ground,” Shane said. “Blown up. There’s nobody out there looking for us, Rick. If they were, they’d have found us by now. You didn’t see the bombs. You didn’t hear—you didn’t hear what we heard.”

“I’m not one who’s all gung-ho for trusting the government,” Daryl said. “But I ain’t gonna say there ain’t nothin’ out there, either. It seems impossible to me to think that the whole world’s just gone when I ain’t seen more’n a hundred mile radius. Still—we gotta go some damn where an’ we oughta move ‘fore the sun sets. It ain’t safe here no more. There was enough shootin’ last night that it was like the fuckin’ Alamo. All this wailin’ an’ tears today—every damn thing else? We know we’re catchin’ their attention and we ain’t done nothin’ to lessen that attention. If we had us another bunch tonight like we had last night, they’ll wipe us all out.” 

“We move out,” Shane said. “We put some distance between us and here. We head toward wherever we might be going. We regroup when things look clear. When the sun comes up in the morning. We figure out where we’re going then.”

“We just leave?” Rick asked. “That’s it? You want to go and tell everyone to pack up and head out and we don’t even tell them where we’re going? Nobody’s going to want to go along with that plan. They’re going to want to know where we’re going. They’re going to want to know that we have a plan. After what happened last night, they’re going to need that more than ever before. Nobody wants to know that we’re just wandering blindly.”

“Sounds like words comin’ from a man with a plan,” Daryl said. “Most of us got here from wandering. We didn’t have a plan when the world went to shit. You got a plan, officer?” 

Rick looked at him and Daryl wasn’t sure if it was a friendly look or not. Rick Grimes wasn’t exactly crazy about Daryl. Daryl knew that already. They hadn’t known each other very long at all, but already their history was a little rocky.

Rick Grimes had handcuffed Daryl’s brother Merle to a roof and he’d left him there. Daryl might understand some of the reasoning behind everything that had happened, but that didn’t mean that it made things easier to stomach. Daryl’s first reaction hadn’t been very positive—and Rick had been only slightly understanding. He had gone with Daryl, though, to look for Merle. They’d found Merle’s hand and a trail of blood that simply suggested that Merle had gotten himself out of the building and he was gone. 

Rick didn’t approve of Merle and, more than likely, he didn’t approve of Daryl. Daryl didn’t give a shit if Rick liked him. They were all in this together for the time being, and that was all that really mattered. 

“The CDC,” Rick said. “In case of a disaster, the government would keep it running. It would never shut down so long as anything still existed.”

“So what, we go there?” Daryl asked.

“If there’s anybody who would know about places to go, or anywhere where we could information about safe places, the CDC would be the place where we would find answers,” Rick said. “Besides that—Jim is bit. The CDC can offer us some answers about how to handle that. Maybe they’ve even got some kind of cure if we can make it there.”

He sounded so damned sure of himself that Daryl assumed he must know what he was talking about. Daryl looked at Shane. The man’s brow was furrowed, but he didn’t look like he was really prepared to argue with Rick. When he spoke, it was clear that he didn’t intend to argue. 

“We need to break camp before the sun goes down,” Shane said.

“We can travel slow,” Daryl said. “Keep movin’ through the night. Take just the vehicles we need to get there to save on gas. Where’s the CDC?” 

“Atlanta,” Rick said. “Glenn showed us a way into the city that was pretty clear. We could probably make our way through there in the cars as long as we take our time and don’t get in too big of a hurry. How are the Walkers with cars?” 

“Like deer,” Daryl said. “They’ll run right into ‘em. Try to get in if you stopped an’ they can smell you or whatever the hell they do. They don’t tend to get too bunched up just if you sittin’ there quiet.”

“We’ll run into trouble with the baby,” Shane said. “We could sleep on the road. In the cars when we need to. The rest of us can be quiet, but she’ll bring the Walkers down on us.”

Rick hummed his agreement and looked around like he was coming up with some solution. He looked around like he might pull some answer out of the sky. 

What the hell kind of answer could there be to a so-called problem like the one that Shane had presented except the same kind of barbaric answer that Ed Peletier’s sorry ass had offered more than once?

“Fuck that,” Daryl said, even though neither of them had given voice to what he could practically hear them thinking. “She’s a baby. Just a fuckin’ kid! She don’t know shit except she’s hungry an’ she’s wet an’ all that. What the hell you gonna do? Pack the whole camp up an’ leave Carol an’ the baby sittin’ out here alone to die?”

“Nobody said anything about leaving anyone,” Rick said. His tone had taken on that annoying-as-shit cop tone that he used. It was his way of calming people down, but it did the exact opposite for Daryl.

“You got a man in a fuckin’ RV that is bit. Bit. By one of these things. That’s a game-over card. But you’re ready to haul his ass to the CDC just as quick as you can get him there an’ you talkin’ about this baby like—like you disgusted by her. Like you gotta figure out how to get rid of her ‘cause she’s so damned dangerous.”

“There’s no need to overreact, Daryl,” Shane offered. “We need to be aware of the challenges we’re going to face moving forward.”

“Fuckin’ challenges,” Daryl said. “Fuck that. We’ll go to the CDC. You tell everybody to pack their shit an’ we’ll move the fuck out. Don’t’cha worry about the baby. Carol an’ her can ride with me in the truck. If she brings Walkers down on us while we’re travelin’, I’ll handle it. And if I can’t fuckin’ handle it—at least I know I tried. I don’t got shit to live for no damned way. I’m goin’ to pack.”

Daryl walked off, leaving the officers standing where he’d found them. They’d wait there a while longer and talk things over. They’d pretend that they made the final call on things and that it hadn’t been Daryl at all. They’d present the whole thing to the group and they’d move out.

Daryl wouldn’t care, one way or another, how they presented things. He was only focused on getting his brother’s motorcycle loaded in the back of the truck and his stuff packed so that he could make sure Carol had what she needed packed.

She didn’t need to know why she was riding with Daryl if she couldn’t figure it out. All she needed to know was they got elected to travel together to the CDC in the hopes that the government was ready to restore order to the world and the blessed news had, somehow, simply failed to reach them yet. 

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AN: If you’re reading “Daddy,” then you might have seen where I said Carol kept Ed from reanimating with a “pitchfork”. I meant pickaxe. It was an honest mistake.


	4. Chapter 4

AN: Here we are, another chapter here. 

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

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Daryl gnawed at his cuticle and did his best to avert his eyes. There wasn’t much to look at, though. It was dark and their procession was moving at a crawl because they were attempting to navigate with only one set of headlights burning to keep down the number of Walkers that their lights drew. Daryl could follow the taillights in front of him at the speed of idle without paying too much attention. Even if he was to rear-end Shane at this point, not much would happen to anyone in either of the vehicles.

His eyes were paying him no mind at all when he told them to stay on the road. They kept hopping back toward Carol. He knew it wasn’t polite to stare. What she was doing was completely expected. Her child was hungry and she had to feed her. The only method she had of feeding the little one right now was offering her a breast.

It was rude to stare at her breasts while she fed her child, and Daryl felt that down to the very core of himself, but his eyes were assholes and didn’t care about being rude any more than they seemed to care about listening to the signals that the polite part of his brain was offering. 

It was dark enough in the truck that Daryl could see very little. Really, he could barely make out anything more than the fact that Carol was feeding Sophia. He could somewhat see her face when the brake lights glowed brightly, but that was it. It was more of a mental thing that made him keep nervously looking in her direction than the fact that he could actually see anything.

And Carol didn’t seem to notice. She simply sat, staring down at her daughter or out of the windshield. If she knew that Daryl kept looking at her, she didn’t let on to him.

Finally, starting to feel uncomfortable with the relative silence of the truck cab, Daryl cleared his throat. 

“Uh—how much someone big as she is eat?” He asked.

“I’m sorry?” Carol asked after a second. She almost sounded like he’d woken her up, and he wondered if she was able to doze there in the truck while she rode and fed her daughter. He wasn’t sure, though, how much she’d slept lately. This might be the most peace that she’d seen in a long time. 

“I’m sorry if I—if I woke you up,” Daryl said. “You can go back to sleep.”

“No,” Carol said. “No. You didn’t wake me. I was—I was sort of dozing. But it’s fine. I like the conversation. What did you say?” 

“Your kid. Sophia. How much she eat? Someone her size—I mean.”

Carol hummed.

“Do you want to know the truth?” She asked.

Daryl hummed in the affirmative. He bit his tongue so that he wouldn’t point out that he wouldn’t have asked the question if he didn’t want some sort of response, and he wanted the truth because otherwise there was no need to have even asked the question. He could have made up a perfectly reasonable answer for himself if all he wanted was some false piece of information. 

“I really don’t know,” Carol said. “I never—I never looked into it. I always meant to read all the books and learn all the information, but I thought there would be time. I never thought that—that all this would happen.”

“How do you know how much to feed her, then?” Daryl asked.

“I feed her when she’s hungry,” Carol said. “And then I stop feeding her when she’s full.”

Daryl laughed to himself. 

“Yeah—I guess you don’t need no book or nothin’ to tell you that,” he offered.

“She should be starting solid food sometime,” Carol said. “Honestly I don’t know much about that either. I just know that—the rations we have don’t seem like a good thing to feed her. Those instant meals that Ed had.”

“Hard on our guts,” Daryl said. “Don’t she eat like—baby food?” 

“I don’t have baby food,” Carol said. “I wasn’t prepared for this much time. I thought things would be back to normal in a couple of weeks...a month. Ed didn’t give me much time to pack. He had everything he thought we would need.”

“He weren’t thinkin’ about what the kid would need,” Daryl offered, finishing the statement for her. She didn’t respond. She didn’t have to. He heard everything in her silence. He cleared his throat. “Sorry,” he offered quietly.

“Don’t apologize for noticing the way things are,” Carol said. “Or were.”

“Still gettin’ used to it?” Daryl asked. 

“I should feel sad,” Carol said. 

“We feel what the hell we feel,” Daryl said. “That’s all there is to it. If people want us to feel a certain damn way, then they oughta not work so damned hard to get us to feel different.”

“It’s true,” Carol said, so quietly that she could barely be heard. Daryl heard her, though.

He looked for something to change the subject and steer it away from Ed and any other asshole that either of them might have known. Looking for positive things to talk about these days was difficult, though, and Daryl had never actually been much a grand conversationalist. He did alright talking with people who shared interests with him, but he certainly wasn’t known for his ability to keep the party going.

“You—can’t get no baby food?” Daryl asked. “I mean—Glenn ain’t found none in all them places he’s been?” 

“I haven’t asked,” Carol said. 

“Why not?” Daryl asked.

Carol was quiet for a moment. Sophia was unhappy with something about her situation. Carol turned her attention to her daughter. In the dark, and glancing out of the corner of his eye, all that Daryl could really tell was that she was changing the position of her daughter. The baby wasn’t fond of the idea, but it didn’t take too long before she settled down again. When Sophia was feeding once more, Daryl thought that they might just remain there in silence, but Carol broke the silence long enough to answer Daryl’s question with a simple response—a question that he knew she didn’t expect him to answer.

“Why do you think?”

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Daryl Dixon had no reason to be kind to her. He was under no obligation to treat Carol in any particular way. She’d only met Daryl and his brother, Merle, when they’d stumbled upon the camp and decided to stay with the group. They’d suggested that there was safety in numbers, but Carol got the feeling from both the Dixon men that they didn’t need anybody. If they were seeking numbers, it was simply because they wanted to be around people. 

Merle was crass and loud. He made off-color comments and had strong opinions about what should be done and how it should be done. He was often disappearing for stretches of time into the woods, and when he returned it would be clear that he’d been partaking of something that had left him nearly stripped of his senses. Daryl hadn’t seemed fond of his brother at those moments.

But it had been clear that Daryl had loved his brother as much as anyone could love their sibling—even if the men weren’t keen on expressing their affections with words and overt gestures.

Daryl was different than Merle. He wasn’t crass—at least not so that Carol or anyone else knew about it—and he was more reserved than his brother. He had opinions, and he would occasionally voice them rather loudly, but he was generally a great deal more reserved than Merle. Of course, that wasn’t necessarily to say that Daryl was the definition of reserved, it simply meant that he appeared to be so next to his brother. 

Carol knew that the majority of the group considered the Dixons to be uneducated, uncultured, rednecks—and maybe they were right—but that wasn’t what Carol believed. Daryl might not have spent a great deal of time in college, and neither had Carol or many of their group members, but he seemed to know a decent amount of information. He and his brother had to bring some intelligence to the table, after all, because the group really valued their presence to help them survive.

If the Dixons didn’t know much about proper physics and philosophy, they knew a great deal about what was required to stay alive—which was a science in its own right.

Daryl stopped the car when the row of vehicles in front of them stopped and Carol sat up a little from where she was reclining in the seat. 

“What’s happening?” She asked, shifting her sleeping daughter in her arms.

“Don’t know,” Daryl said. “Can’t see shit out here.” He reached under the seat and came up with the flashlight that they were travelling with. He opened the truck door. “Stay here. Don’t get out unless I come back for you.” 

Daryl slid out of the truck door after giving his instructions. He didn’t wait for Carol to tell him whether or not she understood his request. He closed the door as quietly as he could, flicked on the flashlight, and shined it around.

Carol watched the beam dancing in the darkness. Where it fell, I illuminated pieces of the scenery around her. There were other flashlights, too, presumably from other members of their group. The beams lit up the area around them to some degree, but Carol couldn’t tell too much about where they were or what was going on. They were on a backroad of some sort. Carol knew that much. They were outside of Atlanta. That was all that really mattered. The dancing beams showed her that they were surrounded by woods, at least from what she could see. There were cars everywhere, even though the road was two lanes. They were in front of them, beside them, and even on both sides of the road in the grass. It was as though people had tried to get through the area in a hurry and they’d all simultaneously failed. 

They were at a standstill. 

Sophia was sleeping soundly in Carol’s arms. She was really a good baby. Nothing ever seemed to bother her too much, and if she ever got upset, she responded pretty well to simply being cuddled by Carol. A little affection went a long way with her daughter.

Everyone who knew her, though, wished that Sophia wasn’t part of their group. And it broke Carol’s heart because she loved her daughter more than she loved her own life—and she wanted them to love her too.

Even her own father would have been happy to be without her. Now, at least, he was quite without her. 

Carol’s gut clenched at the thought. Her husband—the man who had often made her feel like she wasn’t worth the air she breathed—was cold in the ground at a rock quarry that Carol would never again visit. The young bride that had married Ed Peletier, and had believed him to be a good man who would truly love her forever, would have been heartbroken to even think of such a thing. The woman that Carol had become felt nothing but relief over Ed leaving her life for good.

Carol rocked Sophia even though the baby wasn’t even aware of her efforts. She did everything she could to keep Sophia quiet and satisfied so that nobody would feel put-out by her presence. She did her best to work enough so that the group didn’t think they could do without her—especially now that she had nobody. She tried to stay quiet and invisible because, if they didn’t notice her, then perhaps they wouldn’t be so disgusted by how much she cost the group or how often she put them all at risk.

Even the women that seemed to want to be friends with her—Andrea, Lori, and Jacqui—probably thought that Carol was more of a hassle than she was worth, even though she’d never heard any of them say so.

Carol jumped when the truck door opened again. She gasped and Daryl slid into the seat next to her once more and flicked off the flashlight.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he said.

“I was just—daydreaming,” Carol said.

“You might wanna do more’n that,” Daryl said. “Road is backed up. There ain’t no gettin’ around that snare in the dark. Too dangerous to risk it. When the sun comes up, we might can see clear to move some of these cars. Maybe siphon off some gas. But we’re stuck here tonight.” 

“We’re sleeping in the truck?” Carol asked.

“Safest place to be,” Daryl offered. He brought his thumb up and began chewing almost furiously at the cuticle. He often kept the area quite damaged. Carol had noticed the habit more than once. She resisted the urge to reach for his hand and stop him, sure that his finger must be sore. “Unless—you want me to walk you down to the RV. I’m sure there’s room there.”

Carol thought it was odd, but it almost sounded like Daryl knew how he wanted her to answer. It sounded like the offer to walk her to the RV had been given with some reluctance. 

She decided that maybe he didn’t want to sleep alone in the truck.

“Sophia might be waking up soon,” Carol said. “And—sometimes she sleeps most of the night, but sometimes she doesn’t.”

“You askin’ or you tellin’?” Daryl asked.

“I don’t want her to bother you,” Carol said. 

Daryl laughed to himself. 

“I been in worse company,” he said. “You stayin’ or you goin’ to the RV?” 

“There’s enough room here,” Carol said, even though the cab of the truck was, honestly, quite crowded for the three of them.

“You can spread out some,” Daryl said. “Lean over here if you need to. I don’t need much room. Behind the seat there—with your bag? There’s some blankets.”

Carol had packed a small diaper bag for Sophia. Daryl had stuffed it in the small space behind the seat. Carol reached back there and found the bag. She dropped it in the foot. Sophia would need to be changed when she woke up. She found the blankets, too, and she offered one to Daryl. For a moment, she considered what would be the best way to get comfortable. He had offered, so she took him up on the offer to lean against him and stretch her legs out a little in the opposite direction.

“You ain’t gonna sleep holdin’ her like that,” Daryl said. 

“I don’t want to keep her in the carrier,” Carol said. 

“You can’t stay awake all night, every night, neither,” Daryl said. “Here—lemme try.”

“You want to hold her?” Carol asked. Daryl hummed at her and reached to take Sophia. “You won’t sleep.”

“We’ll take turns,” Daryl said. “At least we’ll both get some sleep. Go on. Get what’cha can ‘fore she wakes up.”

Carol passed Sophia over. She’d held her daughter so much that her arms felt strange without the weight of the baby. She wasn’t sure that a man like Daryl would even know what to do with the baby. And maybe he didn’t, but he hid it well. He settled Sophia against him and she hardly seemed to notice the change. Daryl hummed at Carol as if to say that all was well, and she leaned her head against him and covered herself with the blanket. 

She wasn’t sure if she was going to be able to sleep at all, but that was one of the last thoughts she had.

The very last thought being that Daryl Dixon had no reason to be kind to her—but she was glad he was.


	5. Chapter 5

AN: So I don’t intend for Daryl to be the kind of character in this story (or “Daddy”) that just follows along. I feel like Daryl, even if he wouldn’t necessarily fight to be the so-called leader, would naturally lead to some degree. The Daryl we knew in the beginning was very pragmatic and he believed in getting things done because they needed to be done. That’s the Daryl I loved, so that’s the Daryl I’m channeling. I hope he’s not too OOC for some of you.

I hope you enjoy the chapter! Let me know what you think! 

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Carol came slowly back into the world around her. It was a strange feeling. She hadn’t experienced this kind of waking for a long time. As she cracked her eyes, reality slowly settled in around her. It wasn’t dark, but it wasn’t light. It was the part of the morning where the sun was just starting to change the world from monochrome to colorful. Carol felt strange because she’d woken on her own. Nothing had startled her. Nothing had frightened her. Nothing had sounded an alarm in her head that told her that now was the time to wake and there wasn’t a moment to spare.

And she felt strange because her arms were empty. 

The realization hit her stomach like a lead weight had been dropped inside her and Carol sat bolt upright quickly enough that it made her head spin slightly. Her fear washed over her in an icy cold wave. 

Since Sophia had been born, Carol had not woken before her daughter. And, since the world had turned into the nightmarish land full of the walking dead, Carol had not woken without her daughter wrapped protectively in her arms.

Carol didn’t have to look far to search her daughter out. She didn’t have to think too hard to remember what had happened the night before. She was easily oriented with her current reality.

Daryl had shifted some during the night, apparently moving Carol with him, so that he was slightly reclined with his head against the driver’s side window. He was asleep. He appeared to be soundly asleep, in fact. His arms were hooked together like a basket across his chest and, snuggled into them and sleeping soundly, was Sophia.

She was sleeping so soundly, in fact, that Carol’s chest flooded with fear again. What if her daughter’s position had gotten off during the night? What if she’d slept wrong and had somehow suffocated?

Carol reached, panic washing over her, to rest her hand on her daughter’s back to feel for any sign of life. She wanted to feel breathing. She wanted to feel warmth. 

She found both.

She also frightened Daryl. As soon as Carol touched Sophia, Daryl closed the basket he’d made like a Venus flytrap closing over its prey. Daryl jerked and his breathing caught, but it was clear that he hadn’t been as deeply asleep as it had appeared. 

“What?” He asked. “What—what is it?” He looked around with a furrowed brow. His eyes were nearly squinted shut. “What the hell is happenin’?” 

“Nothing’s happening,” Carol said. “Sophia slept through the night. Or—at least she slept through most of it. As long as we’ve been asleep.” 

Sophia was still sleeping. She was unbothered by anything happening around her for the moment. 

“We ain’t been asleep but—a couple hours. Maybe four,” Daryl responded. “It weren’t that early when we went to sleep.”

“Still,” Carol said. 

But she didn’t finish. She left the word hanging there in the air. Daryl, for his part, pretended that he didn’t even hear it. Maybe he hadn’t. He certainly didn’t hear all that was going through Carol’s mind at the moment.

It had been the best she’d slept since Sophia had been born. And, now that she knew Sophia was safe, she almost wished that she could go back and enjoy the sleep a little more. She found the sensation of believing that Sophia was safe to be a little unnerving. It was new. She hadn’t felt it before. 

She was also almost certain that she had never seen Sophia sleep in her father’s arms. Carol could barely remember Ed ever holding the baby. She’d done her best to keep him from touching her. She may have never slept in a man’s arms at all. She’d slept soundly in Daryl’s though, for several hours.

At just that moment, though, it seemed that Sophia had slept all she intended to sleep. She woke slowly, scrubbing her face against Daryl’s shirt. She pretended to go back to sleep for a moment, scrubbed her face once more, and then opened her eyes as she launched into a whimpering cry.

She was wet and she was hungry—and Sophia disliked both those things. 

Daryl immediately looked panicked and Carol bit the inside of her mouth to keep from laughing as she took Sophia back from him. 

“She’s hungry,” Carol said. “And wet. I’ll feed her and change her.”

“Shit,” Daryl spat.

Carol laughed to herself.

“What?” She asked.

“I mean—I got shit,” Daryl said. “That I need to do. It’s gettin’ late an’ we gotta get this shit cleared up...so I’ma just...I’ma...get started...on the...”

“Shit?” Carol offered. 

Daryl was already halfway out the truck. He’d practically opened the door to spill himself onto the ground.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Stay in the truck—until I tell you to come out.”

Carol laughed to herself and accepted his instructions. He closed the door and she watched him find his crossbow in the back of the truck. He walked off in the direction of the vehicles that their other group members were using. So far, it seemed they were the only ones stirring, but Daryl was anxious to get the show on the road. He wasn’t one for sitting around twiddling his thumbs. Even at the rock quarry, he’d always stayed busy. 

Carol watched him only a second. Sophia wouldn’t allow her more than that. Then she got Sophia settled to make sure that she got what she needed from the morning—all the while praising the brown-eyed baby over the sleep stamina that she’d shown the night before.

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“It’s gonna take at least a day,” Daryl said. “Maybe two. Might as well get comfortable. We can’t get through the mess, but neither can the Walkers, it seems like.”

“We could siphon off some gas,” T-Dog offered.

“Prob’ly more’n some,” Daryl agreed. “Go through the cars, too. Hell—get what there is to get. These people was packed an’ tryin’ to go somewhere. We’re bound to find something we can use.”

“Food, water, lamps, weapons,” Shane ticked off. “We can put some people gathering while we’re moving the cars.” 

“Move ‘em out,” Daryl said, “but that way. Keep ‘em so they kinda keep buildin’ this natural fence they got going on now. It don’t keep all the Walkers out completely, but it sure as shit slows ‘em down.”

“We don’t have a day or two,” Rick said, “to stay here moving cars.”

“We don’t have a choice, Rick,” Shane said with some irritation. “Look around you.”

“This snare was caused by a buncha people rushin’ to try to save their lives,” Daryl offered. “They got stupid. Got to tryin’ to do shit they couldn’t do. Some of ‘em died in their cars. Some of ‘em died makin’ a run for it. But whatever the hell happened—they got it too damn backed up for us to get through here.”

“Jim doesn’t have two days,” Rick said. “I’m not sure he has one.”

Daryl plucked a cigarette from his pocket and lit it. He took a draw and savored the flavor. 

“Jim ain’t had shit when he got bit,” Daryl said. “That was game over from the start. He ain’t gonna beat this, Rick.”

“What do you want us to do?” Rick asked. “Shoot him?” 

Jim had been bellowing out from the RV all morning. The reason that Daryl knew that the cluster of wrecked cars on every side of them would do a good job holding back the Walkers was because the cars were holding back every Walker that came to find out where Jim’s screams were coming from. 

The death that the bites caused, clearly, was excruciating. It was the kind of death that you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy. 

“It might just be the best thing we could do,” Shane said. 

Rick looked disgusted. Glenn, too, looked thoroughly disturbed. 

“I told you back at the quarry that there weren’t nothin’ to do but shoot him,” Daryl said. “Bein’ dead’s gotta be a whole lot better’n what he’s going through. Besides—he’s gonna be dead soon anyway. You think he’s really gonna miss this hour of fuckin’ torture?” 

“You can’t just shoot a man,” Rick said.

“You asked him what he wants?” Daryl asked. “Because if it was me? I’d want you to put a bullet in my brain and end it. I’d want you to put me outta my damn misery. He won’t live to see the CDC—and that’s if we weren’t stuck out here.”

“Are you going to pull the trigger?” Rick asked.

“If he wants me to,” Daryl said. “Listen—I don’t wanna kill a man, but I’m not afraid to do it. Not if it’s what needs to be done. You let him die or you force him to live—that’s between the two of you. The fact of the matter, though, is that it’s gonna take a day or two to clear these cars.”

“I can’t go in there and tell him that there’s no hope,” Rick said. 

Daryl laughed to himself and shook his head. 

“Then don’t tell him shit,” Daryl said. “But—don’t let me hear you say nothin’ about that baby hollerin’ no more. Because she ain’t never drawn attention to us like Jim is right now. And you just—wanna hold onto him. For as long as you can. Haul him to the CDC if you can. And it ain’t nothin’ more than you don’t wanna admit that—you gotta let him go.” Daryl took a drag on his cigarette. “But—you wouldn’t have minded lettin’ that kid go back at the rock quarry.” 

“You didn’t mind leaving Merle on a roof,” Daryl thought, but he didn’t say it. He kept it to himself. It didn’t matter. What he had said had gotten Rick’s attention well enough. 

“I never would have left Carol or the baby,” Rick said, pointing his finger at Daryl.

Daryl laughed at the gesture. 

“Don’t point your finger in my face no more,” Daryl said. “You got me? I don’t like it.” 

“We’re not leaving anybody,” Shane said. “And we’re not killing anybody. Not if we don’t have to. Now—Jim—he’s got to make his own decisions. We’ve got to start deciding what we’re going to do with him, though. It’s not safe for him to be in the RV with Lori and Carl and—and Dale and Andrea and Jacqui. If he dies, he turns, and we end up losing more of our people. It’s not safe to have them all together.”

“They won’t all be in there,” Daryl said. “Because they gonna be out here cleanin’ out cars and sorting supplies. Food, water, clothes, cigarettes, alcohol—any damn thing we could want. We’re stupid not to take advantage of this. T will siphon off gas. We’ll start moving the cars. I’ll get a little fire built right out here. Somethin’ small. Carol can cook us somethin’ to eat.”

“What about Jim?” Glenn asked, his face showing a deeper—and different—concern than Rick’s. Daryl softened to him a bit. The Korean was practically still a kid. 

“We’ll see him off however it is that he’s got a mind to go,” Daryl said. “It’s his decision. For now—you good at findin’ shit. I got a couple things I need you to look for. Keep your mind busy. Your hands, too.”

Glenn looked reluctant, but then he shrugged his shoulders and nodded.

“Yeah,” he said. “Sure. What is it?”

“Diapers,” Daryl said. “Clothes for Sophia. She’s wearin’ a t-shirt big enough for you to wear. Baby food. Formula or whatever else you can find that’s fit for a baby. Put it in the back of my truck. All of it. Anything else we find can go in a community pile or whatever you want, but the baby stuff—it only makes sense that there ain’t but one baby.” 

Glenn nodded his understanding, though he looked a little uncomfortable when Jim shrieked again from inside the RV.

“I’ma go get ‘em out the RV and put everyone to work,” Daryl said. “Safer that way.”


	6. Chapter 6

AN: Here we are, another chapter here. 

I hope that you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

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Carol cooked over the small fire that had been built for her without any complaint. She didn’t mind cooking—not even for a crowd—and staying close to the fire allowed her to stay to close to Sophia, who was resting near her in the detachable carrier that came with her car seat. Carol had left the seat in Ed’s Cherokee, and she’d allowed Rick and Lori to use the car for their travel needs. The seat came in handy, though, whenever Carol felt secure enough to put her daughter down for a few moments. 

The others worked on jobs here and there that they’d been assigned so that they could make the most out of their time stopped in the traffic snare. Around them, Walkers made their way to the piled up cars, but they very seldom managed to get through. Daryl, along with Rick and Shane, occasionally walked around the traffic snare and put down the Walkers they could reach, essentially building a wall of fallen Walker bodies that seemed to be working as a deterrent to other Walkers that considered approaching.

Many of the cars had been carrying coolers—all of which were filled with less-than-desirable water now that their ice had melted. Carol had boiled some of the water to use for washing, and she’d preserved the drinking water they’d found for their consumption. She’d served breakfast to the group, cleaned the dishes, and was almost done getting everything ready to start their lunch when she was drawn out of her daydreams by some loud talking taking place among several of the others.

Carol abandoned the food for a moment. Lunch could wait for her to start it until she was sure that everything was fine with her group members. 

Carol collected Sophia out of her seat and quickly secured her daughter to her body with the wrap that Glenn had found in one of the vehicles that had boasted a great deal of baby supplies in boxes, bags, and a suitcases. Carol, for her part, was happy to have everything that the vehicle had to offer, and she’d tried not to think about what it meant that they’d found it all in an abandoned car caught here in the snare. The wrap was much more comfortable than Carol’s old carrier had been, and she welcomed that because she spent most of her life these days with her daughter bound to her body.

Everyone was gathering around, drawn by the same noise that had stopped Carol from her task. The noise was primarily coming from Daryl, Rick, and Shane. All of them were rather noisily giving their opinions about something to the point that Carol wasn’t sure that any of them were actually hearing each other. She couldn’t make out what was happening until Dale, emerging from the RV and practically stepping into the middle of the three men, managed to get them to all quiet down.

“This isn’t getting anyone anywhere,” Dale said. “And it’s not accomplishing anything except bringing more of those creatures.”

“What do we become if we start killing people?” Rick asked. “If we condone murder, what’s next?”

“This ain’t some cold-blooded shit,” Daryl said. “He’s beggin’ for fuckin’ mercy, Rick! He’s been beggin’ for mercy for over an hour!”

“So you decide it’s time to kill him?” Rick asked. 

“I decide it’s time to give him the mercy he wants,” Daryl responded. 

“Man—he doesn’t want to go to the CDC,” Shane said. “He doesn’t want to go anywhere now. He just wants to let go. And he’s gonna do that. Today or tomorrow—whenever the fever finally cooks his brain, Rick. And then what? He’s inside the circle. He’s inside the RV. Let’s say he dies at night. Everyone’s asleep. Then what? We let him kill Lori? Carl? Dale and Andrea?” 

“I don’t want to be in there with one of those things,” Andrea interjected quickly from where she was standing, running her hands up and down her arms. She’d been helping Carol a little with the food and washing, and she’d been cleaning out the occasional car, but the loss of her sister was still fresh on her mind and she hadn’t had time to properly process it. She was clearly very distracted and not at all herself. It was also written on her face that the very idea of being in the RV with Jim-turned-Walker was enough to have her trying to find room in one of the vehicles to spend the night.

“We’re not talking about a Walker,” Rick said. “We’re talking about Jim. He’s alive. Do you agree with shooting him?” Rick directed his question toward Andrea. “Would you pull the trigger?” 

Rick’s question caught Dale’s attention and Dale stepped between Rick and Andrea when Andrea physically recoiled from the question. 

“Normally I would agree with you,” Dale said. “I think that we’re turning into animals if we start killing each other. And I—I normally wouldn’t condone suicide. I would say that there’s always a chance for a better future. But in Jim’s case...”

“You know as good as we do that there ain’t no future,” Daryl offered, finishing Dale’s words. “He’s dyin’ right now. The only thing we decidin’ is how fast we gonna let him do it. He wants out—and maybe there weren’t no power that granted me the right to decide to that he gets out, but there weren’t no power that granted me the right to deny him that either. You asked Andrea if she’d pull the trigger. She ain’t gotta. I’ll pull it myself. My conscience ain’t lily white no damned way. I’ll answer for it—if that’s what I gotta do.”

“You can’t be serious,” Lori said. She was across the group from Carol. Her young son was standing with her, trying to talk louder than anyone to get his mother’s attention so that she might explain to him what was going on, and she was holding him in a veritable headlock like it might protect him from the reality that was surrounding them. 

Carol rested her hand on Sophia’s back, but her daughter—doing her best to bounce in her new wrap—was entirely unaware of the fact that they had reached a point in the world where it was necessary to discuss whether or not they would make the choice to put down one of their group members. 

“You’re just going to—shoot him and then eat lunch?” Rick asked. He was clearly quite troubled by what was happening. He was troubled by what he feared it meant for them. He was troubled by what he feared they were becoming. 

Looking at Daryl, Carol wasn’t sure he was any less troubled, though he did a better job of hiding it than Rick did. He was gnawing at his thumb, though, and Carol was starting to realize that the action was something he did whenever he was bothered by something or thinking deeply about something.

“No,” Daryl said, somewhat softly. He cleared his throat and spoke again. “No. I’ma shoot him—‘cause that’s the best thing for him. And then I’ma dig a hole out there—hopefully with Shane or some damn body to keep the Walkers from eatin’ my ass too—an’ I’ma bury him. Then I’m gonna eat lunch and get back to work. Because that’s what the hell I gotta do, Rick. You do what the hell you gotta do.”

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There had been next to no conversation for the rest of the day. 

Carol had served lunch and dinner, and she’d cleaned up after both meals with some assistance from Andrea, Lori, and Jacqui, all while remaining in almost absolute silence.

Everyone had kept working, but the words they’d exchanged were only the ones necessary to go from one task to the next. If no communication was necessary, then there was none. 

Maybe their silence was respect for the dead. Maybe, even, it was brought on by mourning, but Carol doubted that. Jim had been a nice enough individual, but she’d felt no real attachment to him. He’d simply been a member of the group and nothing more. She hadn’t been particularly close to him and she mourned him no more than she mourned anyone else they’d lost that she’d only barely known.

Nobody wanted to see Jim die, but he’d lost his family already. None of them were overly close to the man. They cared for him as they cared for anyone else that they hadn’t personally bonded with in the group. Their silence, more than likely, wasn’t caused by any profound sadness at his loss.

More than likely, their silence was brought on by the fact that they’d all seen the suffering that Jim had endured before he’d been put down. They’d all said their goodbyes to him though he’d barely been able to even pretend that he understood they were there. He’d seemed impatient and their farewells were an inconvenience. They’d heard him screaming even as he’d been carried out to the woods because every movement of his body caused excruciating pain. They’d heard the muffled conversation that took place between him and Daryl—even if the words had only been clear to the two men involved in the conversation and, perhaps, to Shane who had helped Daryl carry Jim out and bury him afterwards. They’d heard the gunshot and the deafening silence that had followed when the cries of agony that had been ringing out all day finally stopped.

They were silent because Jim had shown them the true agony of dying slowly from the fever that had seemed to eat him alive. They were silent because the Walkers growled around them and reminded them that they could be next—they could always be next. They were silent because the very idea of suffering such a horrible death was terrifying.

And they were silent because they were divided between those that wondered—like Rick—if this was something they shouldn’t have done because there was no coming back from it, and those—like Daryl—that believed that they had to embrace a sort of new world order in a world that called for things to be drastically different than the world they’d left behind.

Carol didn’t speak, beyond giving some small commands about cleaning up after dinner, until Daryl was in the cab of the truck next to her. Between them, in the foot, he’d placed one of the small camping lamps that he’d found. 

“Blow it out soon,” Daryl said. It was the first thing he’d said to her since that morning. “Don’t worry—won’t let it burn us up or nothin’.”

“I wasn’t worried,” Carol said. 

Sophia sat in her lap, gnawing at a toy that had been found for her. She was unbothered by everything that happened. She was unaware of everything that was going on in the world around her. In a lot of ways, this was her world. She accepted everything that happened as simply natural. She knew no different. 

And, honestly, today had been more peaceful for Sophia than many of the days she’d known before. Her father, after all, was dead and buried at a rock quarry outside of Atlanta. Sophia hadn’t had to scream once, since his departure from the world, out of fear of the chaos that surrounded her in the private spaces that her family occupied. 

The Walkers frightened Sophia less than the chaos that she’d known in those private spaces.

Daryl kept glancing at her nervously. Carol could practically feel the energy radiating off his body. He reminded her almost of a caged animal, but he had been the one that had placed himself in this cage, and he was the one who had closed the door.

Such an overload of nervous energy might have bothered Carol before, but it didn’t bother her coming from Daryl. She simply wished she knew how to relieve it for him. 

“I like the light,” she offered. “For a little while. Thank you—for having Glenn look for the things for Sophia. I hate to think about where most of it came from, but the whole back of the truck is practically full...”

“Can you get use out of it?” Daryl asked, his tone short. Carol didn’t believe that he was feeling short with her, though. It wasn’t the same tone of voice that Ed might use, for instance, to warn her that she was starting to get on his nerves. She hummed at him.

“All of it,” she said.

“Good,” Daryl said. “Then there ain’t no need in worryin’ about where it come from.”

Carol sat silently, not sure how to respond. Daryl rolled down the truck window and Carol didn’t ask him why. He quickly produced a cigarette and flicked his lighter to light it. Rolling down the window, Carol knew, was a gesture to be considerate to her and Sophia. Ed had never bothered with such courtesies. She’d smoked too, from time to time, but she’d given it up entirely the second she suspected that she might be pregnant. She would have preferred if Ed hadn’t always smoked in the house and car. She assumed, though, that Sophia was about as exposed to smoke as she could be. She’d been getting it thirdhand from Carol since before she was born and secondhand from Ed since she’d come into the world. 

Daryl, at least, smoked out the window. 

“You think like them?” Daryl asked. 

“What?” Carol asked. She’d slipped into a daydream—remembering some of Ed’s ways in comparison to those of other men. She shifted Sophia around and her daughter cooed out some sounds at her before she returned to slobbering on her toy.

“You think like them?” Daryl repeated. He glanced at Carol, but quickly averted his eyes. “Like I’m some kinda animal? Some—some dangerous, murderin’ animal?” 

Carol frowned.

It was bothering him. The whole thing was bothering him. In front of everyone, he pretended that it wasn’t. His guard was down a little now, though, and Carol felt a strange flutter in her stomach when she realized that Daryl was dropping his guard for her—and nobody else.

He would judge himself based on her judgement.

“Jim was suffering,” Carol said. “You—put him out of his misery. He was ready to go. You did what you had to do.” 

“Coulda let him die on his own,” Daryl said.

“You granted his wishes,” Carol offered.

“They think...” Daryl said, but he never did finish it. Carol was pretty sure she could understand why he didn’t finish it. Carol knew very well that the voice in a person’s head had the capability to be as torturous as anyone outside of the mind.

And even though she’d never asked him a great deal about his life, Carol had the very good feeling that Daryl might have some pretty cruel voices in his head.

“You did what you had to do,” Carol said. “You’re not a monster. And—when they stop letting their fear and their...their emotions control them, they’ll know you’re not a monster.”

Daryl hummed in response, but he glanced in Carol’s direction. He offered her something like the bare beginnings of a smile. He reached a hand out and brushed it over Sophia’s head and Sophia squawked a noise out at him. He smiled softly at the noise. 

“She looks better in them clothes that fit,” Daryl said. Carol hummed in agreement. Sophia had long since outgrown everything Carol had for her. She’d been using two of Carl’s rejected shirts for clothing for Sophia for some time now. Now Sophia had actual clothing to wear and some to grow into. 

“She liked the carrots she tried,” Carol said. “And—she doesn’t think you’re a monster either.” 

“She’s just a baby,” Daryl said softly. “She don’t hardly know nothing.” He finished his cigarette and flicked the butt out the window.

“Would you—do me a favor,” Carol asked. “Hold her while I—while I step outside the truck?”

“Where you goin’?” Daryl asked, furrowing his brow. He did reach for Sophia, though.

“I have to pee,” Carol admitted.

“Don’t’cha go nowhere,” Daryl said. “Just right there—just outside the truck. Holdin’ onto the side of it or whatever—so you can still see with the light.”

Carol nodded. 

“I wasn’t going anywhere,” she said. She whispered a thanks to Daryl as he took Sophia. Sophia didn’t protest the change of arms. She allowed Daryl to adjust her on his lap so that she could continue entertaining herself with the toy that she’d been given. Carol held her breath when she opened the truck door and started to slip out, sure that her daughter might protest her disappearing act, but she was thankful when Sophia—developing a sudden interest in reaching for the cigarette pack that peeked out of Daryl’s shirt pocket—didn’t make a peep. Carol smiled to herself and addressed Daryl as her feet hit the pavement outside of the truck. “She doesn’t know much,” Carol said. “But she’s a pretty good judge of character, Daryl.”


	7. Chapter 7

AN: Here we are, another chapter here. 

An important AN is at the end regarding some characterization and the timeline.

I hope you enjoy the chapter! Please let me know what you think! 

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Their time gathering supplies at the snare had provided them with quite a bit of supplies. It was supplies that, hopefully, they could share with whomever they might find at the CDC. They hoped, after all, that the government was still supplying the CDC and they might find riches there that were beyond even what they had found in the traffic snare.

They stopped only once between the CDC and the snare, and that was to rearrange their findings and develop a quick plan for how to handle the evacuation of their vehicles. They had a plan—mostly one that they plucked out of their imaginations—and that plan was to arrive at the CDC, leave most of their belongings, and carry only what each of them could manage. Then, once they were sure that the CDC was open and welcoming, they could offer to return for all that they had. 

Daryl had insisted that Carol pack only a small bag that could fit on her back, and that she strap her daughter to her body. She could support the baby with her arms as she made a dash for the building, but the wrap would provide extra support in case she needed to move her hands for any reason. Carrying the baby meant that she would already be carrying a comparable amount of weight to most people, so Daryl didn’t want to weigh her down with too much in the way of supplies. 

For his part, Daryl carefully divided the space of the large backpack that he’d found to carry some of Carol’s things, some of Sophia’s things, and the few things that he thought he might need if he wasn’t allowed to return to the truck. He strapped every weapon to his body that he could—two hunting knives and a gun being all that he had on him— packed the extra bullets, and decided to carry his crossbow.

They had no idea what they would find at the CDC. Rick seemed to expect the best—an open, welcoming, and well-stocked facility that would offer them refuge, a cure to whatever this was, and the key to getting back to the life that they once knew. Shane seemed to expect the worst—a smoking hole in the ground that had been destroyed as surely as everything else that the government had tried to destroy when the world had first started to descend into its current state of chaos. Daryl fell somewhere in between the two extremes. He was hoping for the best, but he was prepared for the worst. 

Atlanta was a ghost town. The only movement besides their caravan of vehicles was the movement of the Walkers that roamed around looking for something they wouldn’t find inside the city. Eventually, searching out the food that Atlanta didn’t have to offer them, they’d make their way outside the city, Daryl was sure of that.

The CDC, when they found it, looked like every other building in Atlanta—abandoned. Daryl was shifting quickly toward Shane’s way of viewing things as they pulled up.

Darkness was coming quickly. The world was starting to dissolve into shades of gray as the sun descended. If they were going to do this, they needed to do it quickly. They didn’t want to lose the daylight. If the CDC offered them no refuge, then they would still need to get back to their vehicles for the protection they offered. Leaving their vehicles, too, was bound to stir up the Walkers in the area, so they would need to move on before stopping for the night.

Daryl saw the hand gestures from Shane in the vehicle in front of them. 

“You got her all set?” Daryl asked.

Carol was already wearing her bag and her daughter as she sat uncomfortably in the seat beside Daryl. He shifted to get his bag on his back.

“I think so,” she said. Her voice shook just a little, and Daryl heard it, but he didn’t draw attention to it and she didn’t declare that she was scared. Of course she was scared. There were half a dozen Walkers waiting just a few feet from the truck. 

“When I come around, you get out,” Daryl said. “I’ma cover you. All you gotta do is run for the door. Don’t’cha worry about nobody else but you an’ her. Not me. Not nobody. Just head for the door.” 

Carol hummed at him. It was all she seemed able to manage. Daryl held up his hand, letting Shane know that he was ready, and Shane flicked his lights quickly to send the message to Dale. 

Almost like a well-choreographed dance, and with everything happening much more smoothly than what Daryl had expected, everyone spilled out of the vehicles in the order that they’d established. Daryl quickly made his way around the truck and took out the Walkers that showed immediate interest in him with a bolt that he didn’t bother to load into his crossbow. The semi-rotted Walkers dropped to the ground with relative ease and he waved his hand toward Carol. Immediately, she opened the truck door and got out with Sophia. She did exactly as he’d instructed and ran toward the building. Daryl followed behind her, dropping any Walker that got close to them and managed to avoid the other armed group members who were fighting their way to the door with handheld weapons.

Between them all, they cleared most of the Walkers immediately in their vicinity, but night was coming and they were in a city where the dead were hunting and, more than likely, starving. It wouldn’t be long before there were more Walkers. There was every chance that they could be overwhelmed soon.

The heavy doors echoed their thuds when they beat on them, but nobody answered their calls. They stood outside the CDC for a few moments, frantically trying to get the attention of someone who might not be there, before Shane started to yell about the very real possibility that they were just wasting time and burning daylight. 

Slowly, as it got darker and his heartbeat picked up from the fact that he could sense the threat of night, Daryl began to agree with Shane. It was time to abort this. It was time to return to their vehicles, move as far away from the city as they could, and sleep for the night before they established a new plan.

And then the camera moved.

“It’s automatic,” was Andrea’s response the moment that Glenn pointed out the moving camera. “It’s probably like—like a motion detection device. There’s nobody in there. There’s nobody left. Look around—there’s nobody left anywhere.”

“We’re left,” Daryl offered. “All that fuckin’ matters. But we gotta get outta here. Gettin’ dark an’ I didn’t like sight of all the Walkers that we seen comin’ in.”

“We’ll head back toward the interstate,” Shane said. “Get away from the city. Away from the population.”

While they talked about the hopelessness of standing outside the locked doors of the CDC and worked on devising something that might serve as a plan to get them through until dawn, Rick launched into an attack against whomever he thought might be behind the camera. He yelled at it, probably drawing more Walkers to them, and he cursed it. He begged it for entrance and pleaded for the lives of his wife and son. He told the camera that to leave them out there was to condemn them all to death.

To stand there yelling at a camera when they could move on to safety was also condemning them to death, but Rick didn’t want to hear about that.

In the end, though, Rick won.

The voice came almost like Daryl might have imagined the voice of God would have come if God had felt inclined to speak to any of them. It came ringing out from above them, and it was entirely disembodied.

“You should go,” the voice said. “If you’ve found a way to live, then you should continue to do so.”

Daryl was inclined to listen to the voice. Shane, already trying to urge Lori and Carl to go with him, must have felt the same way. If the voice thought it was better for them not to be inside the building, then maybe the voice knew best.

Rick begged entrance, though. He told of their struggles. He told of the fact that night was descending and, soon, they’d be overrun by Walkers who hunted even more ferociously at night. He pleaded to the voice to offer some help and some refuge.

Daryl finally yelled to the voice to ask it one question—“Is it safe in there?” 

“There are none of what you call Walkers,” the voice responded. 

“There anything else in there?” Daryl asked.

“Only me,” the voice responded.

Daryl glanced around, but it was clear that nobody knew what to make of the voice. It tried, once more, to tell them that they may want to go. Once they entered the building, it promised, there would be no leaving it. They would remain there forever. The voice warned them that there was nobody there. There were supplies enough to last their lifetime, it boasted. There was, clearly, electricity because there were cameras, but there was no civilization. If they came inside, they would make up the entirety of their society.

Out here, too, they made up the entirety of society. Out here, they were alone with the Walkers. It appeared that there were very few people left. Out here, they scrounged through abandoned buildings and vehicles for food and water, and they lived off the land. They could continue to survive this way, and Daryl was sure of that, but it wasn’t a life of luxury. It was a life of always looking over their shoulders to make sure that the dead weren’t coming to get them.

Still, there was something about the whole thing that made Daryl uncomfortable. 

“I don’t like it,” Daryl said. “He thinks we oughta just go, so I say we oughta just go.”

“Go where?” Andrea asked.

“Further out,” Shane said, repeating what he’d said earlier. “Away from the cities. Less people means fewer of these things.”

“It don’t matter where we go,” Daryl said. “Keep goin’ until we know we’re there. Find somewhere safe.”

“We’ve found somewhere safe,” Lori insisted. “Right here. I don’t want to take my son out there. I don’t want to live like we’ve been living—waiting for the next attack. The next night like that one at the quarry. Always wondering who’s going to die next. Carol?” 

Daryl glanced at Carol. She looked between Daryl and Lori. She was clearly conflicted. She would want safety, wherever that might be, and it was looking like there was some of it here. Still, Carol didn’t immediately agree with Lori. Maybe she felt the same strange gnawing feeling in her gut that Daryl felt in his. Maybe she knew that something was simply off about this whole experience. She looked to Daryl for some sort of guidance, and Daryl could see the conflict on her features.

“I want Sophia to be safe,” she said. Daryl could hear the shaking in her voice. The voice that came from inside the CDC—Daryl assumed—turned on a floodlight before anyone could say anything else and bathed them all in brightness.

“Man! Turn off the fuckin’ light! You wanna draw every damn Walker in Atlanta? Turn off the fuckin’ light!” Daryl spat. 

The light went off, but the damage had been done. Daryl could hear the growling already. It was loud. The light had caught the attention of a lot of the creatures at once and it had given them a beacon—even for such a short period of time—to follow. They were coming.

Out here was no longer safe and everybody knew it.

Without the luxury of time to think about things or discuss other options, everyone turned to begging entrance to the CDC. The voice laid out some ground rules and expectations and, without even hearing them, they all agreed. There was nothing left to do. They agreed to whatever rules they must abide by in order to live. 

The voice welcomed them in, told them to bring only what they had with them, and buzzed the lock to allow them entrance to the building even as the wave of Walkers coming after them became visible from almost every direction. Daryl was one of the first to open the door and he shoved Carol and Sophia inside before he turned to face off with whatever Walkers might reach them before everyone spilled inside. He was one of the last to come in, and he was relieved when the door locked behind them.

A moment after the relief, though, he felt the strange sense of loss that flooded his chest.

The door locked. They were inside the CDC. Forever. 

“Welcome,” the voice said, now much closer than it had been before. “Put down your weapons.” 

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AN: OK, so I have to admit that I’m terrible with timelines. As I’ve been working on this, I’ve figured out that I’m seriously going to have to make some adjustments to my timelines to make things work out like I want. I’m also going to have to simply beg suspension of disbelief from anyone reading when the time is a bit off. This will not go directly according to canon. 

I also realized that continuing on as I want will necessarily make Lori a bit more promiscuous than she is on the show (and more than I originally intended). I considered what I wanted to do about that, but rather than scrap the whole story, I decided to embrace the opportunity to write her that way. Therefore, I’m letting you know ahead of time that I’m taking lots of liberties with her story (and other stories, as you might have imagined). I hope that you don’t mind.

I hope that you enjoyed the chapter! Let me know what you think!


	8. Chapter 8

AN: Here we are, another chapter here. 

I hope that you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

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Daryl didn’t know what to make of the man that introduced himself as Edwin Jenner, and who had made it clear that he had a preference of being called by his last name. The man was pale and he looked like he’d had trouble sleeping and, perhaps, like he’d tried to solve that problem by drinking heavily.

Of course, he was also living underground in the CDC in a city that was overrun with the living dead. 

Daryl assumed they could all be forgiven a few of their shortcomings, and he’d determined to withhold making any judgments about the man until they’d at least had some opportunity to get to know one another. 

Immediately after greeting them just inside the door, the entire building had been secured once more. There was no need to offer to go for their supplies because Jenner quickly informed them that the doors were sealed and wouldn’t be opened again. There was, according to Jenner, more than enough of everything they’d need in the CDC for a lifetime. Daryl wasn’t sure how the building could even hold all of that, but Jenner seemed confident enough that Daryl was inclined to believe him and to assume that the government might even be making deliveries of some kind there.

They had been allowed to bring their weapons once they offered no threat. They were escorted to an elevator and, then, they’d learned that the majority of the CDC was actually underground. 

Daryl had also learned, on the elevator, that Carol was at least slightly claustrophobic. She’d admitted that elevators and the idea of being underground made her uncomfortable, but she’d quickly controlled her emotions and, other than her own admittance of fear, Daryl had seen no evidence that she was in distress.

Their first stop had been a small room where Jenner had required each of them to provide him with a blood sample. The most distraught about the practice, by far, had been Sophia, and Carol had immediately set about nursing her daughter to simply try to soothe over the clear feeling of betrayal she felt over the needle-stick. Whether it was loss of blood or the nursing, Daryl didn’t know, but he saw the moment that Carol rested her head in her hand and leaned against the table near her. She’d gone lightheaded, and she wasn’t the only one.

When Jenner had demanded an explanation for the fact that several of them seemed near collapse, they’d given him the most straightforward explanation that they had—they were all undernourished. They’d found food at the traffic snare, but they’d been careful to ration that food. Though their desire had been to greedily eat like kings, they all knew that the food wouldn’t last forever and there was no telling when they’d find it again.

They were exhausted, and they were weak from hunger and thirst. 

And then Jenner had told them the most wonderful news that he could. Along with all the supplies that they would need for a lifetime, there was also food and drink to last them equally as long. He’d invited them quickly into the place that they’d be calling home and, prompting them to temporarily abandon their bags and such, he’d taken them to a dining room where he’d seated them around a large table to wait while he’d passed around alcohol, sodas, juice, and water to sustain them while he happily prepared what was truly a feast to all of them.

Daryl had pushed the wine onto Carol because he wanted her to feel the warm, artificial happiness that rushed through the rest of them. She’d fought him at first, declaring that it might very well taint her milk in some way, but Daryl had convinced her that a little wine—mixed heavily with milk, of course—would do nothing more than help her daughter to sleep a little more soundly. Daryl didn’t know a single damned thing about babies or about breastmilk, but Carol had believed him and she’d indulged in a glass of the wine with her meal.

Jenner had also offered her the information that someone who had worked there had a child shortly before the turn and, it seemed, had often brought the child to work. He told her that there was a large stock of baby food and formula in the storage area that she was welcome to have for Sophia.

Daryl was sure that Jenner’s promise of formula might have had something to do with Carol’s decision to partake of the wine, but he pretended that it had been only his influence that had convinced her to relax a little.

Daryl felt the artificial happiness of the whiskey that he was sipping as it flooded through every inch of his body. He felt the relaxation that it induced. He enjoyed the humor that it readily brought up within him. He didn’t try to hold back on the smile that seemed to simply be affixed to his face.

The whole room was filled with happiness and celebration. There was enough food for all of them to gorge themselves and still to know that there was more if they wanted it. Everyone talked and laughed and talked over each other until it was likely that nobody could hear anybody else speak—and nobody was offended because they were all too overcome with relief at finally feeling full and relaxed. 

By the time the meal was over, Daryl was more than lightheaded. He took a full bottle of whiskey with him, and he tucked a bottle of wine under his arm as well, when Jenner led them all out of the dining room to show them their sleeping quarters. He wasn’t the only one taking drinks with them, so nobody pointed out what he’d taken away from the table. He’d tucked both bottles into his bag before he’d gathered up both his bag and Carol’s so that she could focus on carrying Sophia.

Jenner promised them that as soon as he had them settled, they would be free to use the showers. He’d requested they limit the length of their showers, but that there was enough hot water for all of them. 

Even a moment of hot water was more hot water than any of them had experienced in a good long while. The closest that Daryl had come to hot water since this whole thing started was dousing himself in some water that he’d set aside in buckets at the rock quarry to collect the heat of the sun. Still, that was far more short-lived than a shower and he hadn’t had the added benefit of soap.

Nobody said anything to Jenner as he handed out rooms—none of which were actual bedrooms, but all of which could be made to work so that everyone could have some privacy and a place to lay their head. He ushered Rick, Lori, and Carl into a room. He’d offered another to Dale and Andrea since Dale was practically supporting the clearly tipsy blonde as she walked. He’d offered a third to Daryl, Carol, and Sophia. 

Daryl never saw how he’d attempted to “room” Jacqui, T-Dog, and Shane because he’d followed Carol into the room that they’d been “assigned”. He put down the bags that he was carrying and looked around the room. It had clearly been something of a lounge. There was a futon there that would offer them a place to sleep, and there were chairs that could be mined for cushions and pillows. Jenner had apparently tried to make them all feel welcome. While they’d eaten—since that was the only time he’d disappeared at all from their sight—he’d apparently come around to each room like Santa Clause. There were toiletries for the both of them, towels, some assorted clothes, and a large folded blanket that looked plenty big enough for a queen or king-sized bed.

Apparently, the same person who had left behind the formula and baby food had other things there, because Jenner had also put some kind of baby playpen in the room that was complete with a few other baby items inside. 

Daryl scratched at the back of his neck.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“For what?” Carol asked. She carried Sophia over to the playpen and put her inside before she began to shuffle through the supplies there.

Daryl laughed to himself.

“For—well he put us in the same room,” Daryl said.

Carol hummed.

“He did,” she said. “Awww—look at that, Sophia. Do you like that? It’s a doll.” 

Daryl scratched at his head. He would relish the shower when it was his turn. He walked over to look at Sophia sitting in the playpen. Her sitting didn’t last long, though, before she quickly toppled over. She didn’t get upset about the change of position and, instead, reached for the doll that Carol had been offering her. It was, apparently, much more interesting while she lie on her stomach and kicked her legs.

“She could use a little time to just—use her muscles,” Carol said. “I know I shouldn’t hold her as much as I do. She needs to be free to get stronger. But with—everything...”

“Hey,” Daryl said quickly. He interrupted her because he could hear a quiver in her voice. He knew that alcohol could induce negative feelings as quickly as it could induce positive ones. He didn’t want her tripping and falling down a hole that would take her farther down than she had any business going tonight. “She’s good. Look at her—happiest damn kid I ever seen. An’ she’s gonna have plenty of time to get down here. Plenty of room to explore or—do whatever the hell she’s gotta do. There’s none of them things down here.”

Carol visibly swallowed, nodded, and looked at Daryl. She sucked in a breath and forced a smile that quickly looked more sincere.

“I’m sorry,” she breathed out. “You were probably hoping for some privacy. You probably wanted to be away from us and—he put us together. I’ll walk around. See if there are any other rooms.”

Daryl felt a rush of something in his gut. It felt a little like panic. He wasn’t sure how to respond to what Carol had said. He wasn’t sure how she might want him to respond. He said the first thing that came to his mind, though it wasn’t a response that pleased him entirely once it was out of his mouth. 

“I guess he was just doublin’ people up,” Daryl said.

“I think it’s more than that,” Carol said.

“What’cha mean?” Daryl asked.

Carol laughed to herself. She shrugged her shoulders. 

“I think that—he might’ve thought that...”

“That what?” Daryl pressed. He chewed at his cuticle, suddenly overcome with an inexplicable nervousness. He moved toward his bag and found his whiskey bottle. He opened it before he pulled out the wine bottle and held it up so that Carol could see it. “For—after she goes to bed or...whenever you want it. When you don’t gotta worry so much about her milk or...I guess there’s the formula.” He cleared his throat. All the words had come out quickly. They’d come out of his mouth like they hadn’t even belonged to him. They’d rushed out in a stream that had come so fast that they’d surprised him. “What’d you...think he thinks?” Daryl asked.

Carol smiled at him.

“Maybe that—we’re married?” Carol asked. “That—we’re a family?”

“A family?” Daryl asked.

“You, me, Sophia,” Carol said. “A family. It’s a bit presumptuous, but I guess...”

“It makes sense,” Daryl said. Something registered on Carol’s face and Daryl wasn’t sure what it was. He wasn’t sure that he wanted to know what it was, either. Was it simply shock over the fact that Jenner thought what he thought? Or was it something else? Was it displeasure that he might think that she was Daryl’s wife and Sophia was their child? Suddenly Daryl felt his stomach burning. He felt the need to correct something or save something, but he had no idea what or how. “I mean—I was carryin’ your shit.”

The corner of Carol’s mouth flicked upward, but her smile looked uncomfortable at best.

“Yeah,” she said. “That was probably it. You were—carrying things for me and Sophia. I’ll look for another room.”

“Not unless you want to,” Daryl said. “I mean—if anybody oughta look for one, it’s me. You got what’cha need here for Sophia. I just got—like half a bag of stuff. If that, even.”

“If you want to look for another room,” Carol said. 

“If you want me to,” Daryl responded.

“The room is bigger than the truck cab,” Carol said. “And we’ve been fine there. But if you—want some privacy.” 

Daryl’s stomach twisted again. It felt like she didn’t want him to leave. He realized, too, that he didn’t want to leave. He didn’t like to be alone and being with Carol and Sophia had been nice. He’d enjoyed being with them. He’d enjoyed having the company. Now that he was facing “privacy,” he was struck with the realization that he really didn’t want it.

And he hoped that he wasn’t just hearing in Carol’s tone what he felt inside himself. He hoped that she didn’t want it either.

He cleared his throat.

“I mean—there’s room here,” Daryl said. “We could—work somethin’ out with the sleepin’ arrangement or...”

“If we spread out the cushion on that futon,” Carol said, “it’s a lot bigger than the truck seat.”

It was a lot bigger than the truck seat. Carol was right about that. Even the thought of it made Daryl’s stomach react in odd ways, though. He nodded.

“We’ll talk about it,” Daryl said. “Figure it out. After a shower. There’s bound to be one open by now.”

Carol nodded.

“Go take a shower,” she said.

“You go first,” Daryl said. He glanced toward Sophia when Carol looked at him with question on her features. “She’s gonna need milk an’ all ‘fore you put her to bed. She ain’t gonna stay up forever.” 

“She’s going to need a bath, too,” Carol said. “I guess I’ll wash her while I take a shower.”

“Can you do that?” Daryl asked.

Carol shrugged.

“I can figure it out,” Carol said. “It just takes a little—maneuvering.”

Daryl hummed at her. 

“Go take a shower,” Daryl said. “Then—we’ll find a sink or somethin’ for you to give her a bath.” 

“I’ve still got to take her with me,” Carol said. “I can’t just leave her alone while I take a shower.”

Daryl looked toward the little pen where the baby was happily swimming on her belly while she entertained herself with some of the toys provided to her.

“I got her,” Daryl said. “Go. Take a shower.”

“I couldn’t ask you to...” Carol started, but Daryl cut her off before she could finish.

“You didn’t ask nothin’,” Daryl said. “I offered. Go. I got her. She’ll be fine with me.” 

Carol smiled at him and nodded her head.

“I’m know she will be,” Carol offered, before she started to sort through the things that Jenner had left them so that she could decide what she’d take with her to the showers. 

Daryl smiled to himself. The comment brought about a warm sensation in his belly, but this time it was much more pleasant than the other happenings that had taken place in his gut while they’d been sorting things out. This was a sensation that he didn’t mind sitting with.

And he hadn’t lied. He really didn’t mind sitting with Sophia for Carol to have a nice shower. After all, she deserved one just the same as anybody else.


	9. Chapter 9

AN: Here we are, another chapter here. 

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

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Carol wasn’t going to pretend to be the grieving widow. She wasn’t going to put on a show at all. Ed hadn’t been a doting husband, and she hadn’t felt real love for him in a long time.

What surprised her, though, was how absolutely void of sadness she found herself to be. They were safe here. They could rest. They could breathe. If Carol was going to be struck by some deep-seated grief that she’d swallowed down to just keep going, this was going to be the place where it hit her. But it wasn’t there. She truly felt no great loss. She felt no hollowness or emptiness. She didn’t want to reflect on the good times and to try to drum up some nostalgia for the man she’d believed she would love for the rest of her life.

Ed was dead and, what was more, it seemed that he’d been dead to her for a long time.

The hot shower was the first place that Carol had been alone since Sophia had been born. She had kept her daughter with her from the moment she’d been born. When she’d taken showers before, it had been with Sophia resting in a seat just outside the curtain where Carol could peek at her constantly. She wouldn’t dare leave her alone, and she hadn’t trusted her with Ed. She hadn’t trusted her, either, with most of those surrounding her now because they complained about her daughter’s presence so often that it made her worried about what they might do in some kind of moment of weakness or temporary insanity.

But she realized, alone in the shower, that she truly did trust Daryl with her daughter. 

The man admittedly didn’t know much about babies. She’d had to walk him through every single thing he’d done with Sophia in the truck, but he’d learned. He was a quick study and he seemed eager to learn about Sophia. He seemed fascinated by her. He clearly saw her as something slightly terrifying, but wonderful as well. She was a tiny and complete human being to Daryl—complete with mysteries he wouldn’t mind learning about. He had the patience to feed her baby food with a spoon and he wasn’t upset about the mess she made because she didn’t know yet how to eat well. He had learned to change her diaper and Carol hadn’t pointed out to him that she saw that way that his hands shook as he pinned the diaper on because he feared accidentally hurting Sophia. He could dress her in the clothes that he’d had found for her—the first ones that fit her since she’d practically been a newborn—and he seemed pleased to see her in items that he thought were “pretty”. 

And, right now, he was watching Sophia while Carol showered because he offered. Because he wanted to.

Carol shampooed her hair. There wasn’t much of it, but it had been growing since the world had gone to hell and the best she could do to cut it was to use the scissors that they’d found. The scissors hadn’t gotten it as close as the razor, though, and Carol hadn’t cut it since they’d put Ed in the ground.

She wasn’t sure if she was going to cut it again. 

Carol had shaved her hair off for years. Short wasn’t even short enough when Ed was around. If he could find anything to grab, he would. He’d ripped the hair out of her head more times than she could count before she’d decided to let go of any vanity she might have left and shave it off. Who was she trying to look beautiful for anyway? She’d rather that Ed didn’t desire her, because it wasn’t good with him. It hadn’t been good with him for a very long time. 

In fact, if Carol was honest, it had never been good with Ed. When they’d first married, and she was so eager to please the man that she loved, she’d convinced him and her both that it was good—but it wasn’t. She’d always been much better to herself than Ed had ever been to her.

Despite Jenner’s request that they take short showers, and despite the fact that she knew she should hurry to relieve Daryl of the burden of Sophia, Carol indulged herself.

It would only take a moment. She wanted it so badly and her body was so starved for it, that it would only take a moment. Besides that, she knew exactly what she liked.

Carol leaned her arm against the shower wall and leaned her head against her arm. She dropped her other hand and caressed herself. She was gentle and slow at first. She teased herself. She liked the feeling of the water as it ran down her arm and reached her center. She liked the gentle, slow teasing of her fingertips. She drew to mind the dream of someone else teasing her that way—just the way she wanted to be teased. In her mind, things could happen just as she wanted. Someone could enjoy her, and she could be free to enjoy them. The heat built in her body and her muscles tensed as she imagined what might come next. He would be attentive. Would he nothing but gentle? Would he be rough and animalistic? Or would he be both with the perfect rhythm that she desired and required of him? With the growing desire burning inside her, she increased her speed and pressure. She bit her arm and held her skin between her teeth, imagining biting someone else—imagining him biting her with pleasure. She didn’t mind the pain when it was pain that came from pleasure and desire.

She took her time, but even taking her time took no time at all. She stretched out her orgasm as long as she could—it seemed, sometimes, that she could make it last longer than it took to achieve it with just the right movements. Sometimes she felt she simply let it drop rather than spend the time it would take to see how long her body would continue to respond to touch.

Carol’s body felt relaxed and her mind was swimming with a pleasant feeling as she finished her shower. It wasn’t right to think of him that way, and she knew it, but what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him either. He had treated her more kindly in the past few days than most people had treated her in her whole life. He treated her daughter well, and Carol could easily say that nobody else did that. It was only natural that she would feel some attraction to him for his kindness.

His looks didn’t hurt too much, either. Like the rest of them, he was in desperate need of a bath and some genuine rest, but he was handsome in a rugged sort of way. Carol liked his smile and she liked his penetrating stare. She couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to have that gaze directed at her as more than another group member for whom a compassionate man had compassion.

It was a nicer daydream than any celebrity crush she’d ever borrowed for her fantasies before. 

Carol dried off, scrubbed her hair dry with her towel, and quickly dressed in the clothes that Jenner had left for her. They were pajamas and the ensemble was complete with a robe. It was clear that the government, when they’d stocked this place, had been prepared for a variety of people to stay there. Carol wasn’t sure why, exactly, they’d prepared so well and then left Jenner in charge of the place by himself, but she assumed that maybe they predicted—just as it had happened—that people would eventually seek shelter there.

Maybe the government was still running. Maybe they really would find a cure for this. Maybe they would return some order to the world.

Until then, at least, they were safe here.

Carol brushed her teeth and relished the minty taste of the toothpaste and the clean, slick feeling of her teeth when she was done. She packed up her things and padded down the hallway in sock feet back to the room that she would be sharing with Daryl.

He probably wanted privacy. He probably wanted to be away from her and Sophia both. After all, he’d offered them kindness, but they weren’t his responsibility and Carol knew that a young baby could be a bit much for anyone who felt no real responsibility for her. Still, he hadn’t seemed eager to leave the room and she certainly wasn’t going to push him out. She liked his company and she appreciated his help more than she could have ever expressed.

She had needed that shower—and those few moments alone—more than she’d even imagined. She felt, stepping back into the room, like a whole new person.

Carol’s normal reaction, she was sure, upon entering a room where she’d left her daughter only to find her daughter missing, would be to freak out entirely. Admittedly, as she put her things down and fully realized that the room was empty, her heart had stopped in her chest. The panic had been short-lived, though. The room was clean and it appeared that very little had been disturbed. Daryl had clearly dragged the futon mattress down to the floor. He’d covered it with the blanket and piled every pillow he could find on top of it. A few of Sophia’s new toys were strewn there, but other than that the room was just as she’d left it.

Daryl and Sophia, both, were gone and that brought Carol a certain sense of relaxation. She slipped out of the room and went in search of her daughter and the man who was temporarily babysitting her. She didn’t have far to go, because just as she’d turned the corner of the hallway headed back toward the dining room, Daryl had met her with Sophia in his arms. 

Her baby girl clearly had come to no harm. She looked perfectly content in Daryl’s arms while she chewed on one of the toys. When she saw Carol, though, she did start to fuss and beg the changing of the guard. Carol smiled at her and accepted her when Daryl handed her over.

“Hoped we’d get back ‘fore you did,” Daryl said. “You didn’t worry none, did you?” 

Carol smiled to herself. She shook her head.

“No,” she assured him. “I didn’t worry.”

“Was just checkin’ the place out,” Daryl said. “There’s a big sink just—if you go down that hall? You go like—well, just keep walkin’. There’s a utility closet on the left. Like right after it—after it kinda turns. Says utility. Got some machines for washin’ clothes, but it’s also got a big sink in it. Figure you could use it to give her a bath—if that’s what’cha wanna do.”

Carol smiled at the thoughtfulness. 

“You didn’t have to go looking for a bathtub for her,” Carol said.

“Weren’t nothin’ else to do,” Daryl said. He cleared his throat. “Also—run into Jacqui. Said to tell you that at the other end of the hall, there’s like a game room with books an’ all kinda shit. Plenty of stuff to do if you wanna—do that.”

Carol nodded at him.

“Thank you,” she said. “I think—maybe I’ll get Sophia a bath. And then—maybe I’ll see if there’s a book or something I want to read while she nurses. You should get a bath, too.”

“You look...” Daryl stopped suddenly. His eyes somewhat widened and the returned quickly to their normal size. He didn’t pick up with what he was going to say. Instead, he simply spoke with an entirely different start to his words. “Good shower?” He asked.

Carol nodded.

“Excellent,” she said. “Really—amazing. And—I owe most of that to you. Thank you—for watching her.”

Daryl’s cheeks—even behind the grime that he needed desperately to wash off of them—showed pink. He gnawed at his cuticle. The habit, coupled with their general level of filth, was proof that he had an immune system of steel. 

“She weren’t no trouble,” Daryl said. “I mean—you gotta know that. She don’t do nothin’. She didn’t do nothin’. Fussed a lil’ just after you left but—but she liked walkin’ in the halls.”

Carol smiled.

“And I thank you for—for walking the halls with her,” Carol said. “Because you didn’t have to.”

Daryl raised his eyebrows like he might argue with her again, but he didn’t. Instead, he simply nodded his head. He reached a hand out and, catching Sophia’s hand between his fingers, he worked it. Sophia stared at him and then she smiled at him around the toy she was gnawing. He returned her smile. 

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ma—get a shower. Soph—enjoy your bath.”

“Can you say ‘Daryl, enjoy your bath’?” Carol prompted. Sophia looked at her and Carol laughed at her expression before she repeated the words. Sophia thought Carol’s expression was humorous so she laughed at her, as well. 

“I know she can say Ma,” Daryl offered. “I heard it more’n a couple times when you went to get that shower.”

“Daryl?” Carol asked, prompting her daughter again.

“Prob’ly too hard for her,” Daryl said.

It probably was, but he stood there like he was hoping for it, nonetheless. Sophia would grin a toothless grin at him, but she wouldn’t offer him any words. Finally, Daryl announced once more that he was going to get a shower and started off down the hall. Carol stood there a moment, readjusting Sophia as she watched Daryl over her shoulder, to give Daryl some time get his things without feeling like they were up under him. Once he’d had a few moments to get to the shower, Carol would go and get Sophia’s things.

While they stood there, though, and Sophia watched Daryl make his way down the hallway, Sophia squawked out at him. And Daryl stopped.

“Da!” She yelled. Daryl turned around. “Da!” Sophia yelled again.

“Is that me?” Daryl asked.

Carol laughed to herself.

“I think it is,” she said. “I think it’s—it’s the best she can do to say Daryl.” 

Daryl started back toward them.

“I thought you were going to take a shower,” Carol said. 

“It’d be rude to leave her hangin’ like that,” Daryl said. “Not even acknowledge her. Besides—I thought you was gettin’ her a bath.”

“I have to get her things,” Carol said.

“An’ I gotta get mine,” Daryl said. “Might as well go together. Goin’ the same place.” He reached Carol and took Sophia out of her arms. Sophia didn’t protest, though she did look back at Carol as Daryl started down the hall with her. She whined, just a little, but as soon as Carol started to move, she ceased fussing and returned to repeating “Da” over and over again for her entertainment—and, clearly, for Daryl’s. 

Carol smiled to herself. Kindness was important, and it should always be repaid. And Daryl had offered her the greatest kindness that she could remember in a long time.

Even Sophia was aware of it, and Daryl was clearly easily repaid with even the smallest recognition of appreciation for his kindness. After all, Carol didn’t quite miss that all it took was a one-syllable sound from Sophia and Daryl, just a few steps ahead of her, was clearly walking with his shoulders further back and a bit more bounce to his step. 

And even though she wouldn’t have dared to tell him, it looked good on him.


	10. Chapter 10

AN: Here we are, another chapter here.

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

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Carol stood in front of the shelf and ran her finger along the spines of the books as she read the titles. Every now and again, she selected a possible book of interest, flipped it over, and read the back cover to see what it might hold.

The bookshelves were so eclectic, and the books were so well-worn, that Carol assumed they had been the result of something like a work book-swap where readers exchanged books they’d finished for books that they might want to read in the future. There were more than a few of the typical trashy bodice-rippers, so someone must have been a fan of them in what felt like a long-forgotten world. 

Carol had been a fan of them, too. They were entirely unrealistic and often quite poorly written, but they gave her exactly what she wanted—a complete and total escape from her reality.

She was just settling on one of the titles when she heard Lori behind her.

“I thought I’d come in for something to read, too,” Lori said, interrupting the almost complete silence of the room. Carol jumped a little at the unexpected sound and Sophia whined and threatened to fuss in her wrap—a response to Carol’s change from calm to jumpy. Carol shushed her daughter and rocked her body to rock the baby.

“There’s a lot of choice,” Carol said. “Everything from mysteries to...well—to romance novels.”

Carol held up the book in Lori’s direction and Lori laughed to herself.

“Romance?” Lori asked. “Carol that’s more like—porn.” 

Carol laughed to herself and shrugged her shoulders. The cover art of the over-muscled man cavorting on the rocky cliff with the barely-dressed, large-breasted woman made it pretty clear what kind of reading material Carol had plucked from the shelf. There was no need to pretend that she’d selected a classic to sit and entertain herself with for the evening. This was nothing so sophisticated.

“It’ll be a nice bedtime story,” Carol offered. “But—there are plenty of choices here, if you’re looking for something else.” 

“Are you—all set for bedtime?” Lori asked.

Carol laughed to herself. 

“I think Sophia’s going to sleep wonderfully after that bath. She’s already zoned out. She’s been humming to herself since I dried her off. Once I get her stomach full, I’m pretty sure she’s going to be out for most of the night. Then I have some wine, a good book, and—for the first time in forever—I’m going to go to sleep just knowing we’re absolutely safe.”

Lori smiled at her. 

“It’s a good feeling,” Lori said. 

Carol nodded her head. 

“It is,” she said. “Are you all set?” 

“I’ve got some wine, too,” Lori said. “And Carl has some comic books, but it’ll be lights out for him before long. I think I’ll sleep fine. But—that wasn’t really what I was talking about.”

Carol furrowed her brow at Lori.

“What else is there?” She asked.

Lori laughed, but it didn’t sound genuine. She looked around at some knickknacks on a shelf near her, but Carol was fully aware that she was simply using the action of running her finger over the objects to distract herself.

“I was talking about—do you feel safe, you know? If you want, Carol, I’m sure we can move people around. You don’t have to stay in that room if you feel like you’d be...more comfortable elsewhere.” 

Carol’s stomach twisted unexpectedly. She felt the cold rush of realization. She did her best, though, not to let onto it. 

“I’m fine in my room,” Carol said. “Everything’s all set up. I don’t know why I wouldn’t feel comfortable there.”

“I know it’s a lot different in a vehicle than it is in a room,” Lori said. “And I know how some men can be...”

“Especially men like Daryl?” Carol asked.

Lori looked at Carol like she’d splashed her in the face with iced water. 

“I only meant that...it might be uncomfortable being in a room with a man who isn’t...in any sort of relationship with you. That’s all. I thought you might be more comfortable with someone else,” Lori said.

“You asked Andrea the same thing?” Carol asked. “Because—I noticed she’s rooming with Dale.” 

“I didn’t,” Lori said. “I mean—it’s Dale.” 

“And Daryl is the—he’s the greatest gentleman that I’ve ever known,” Carol offered in response. Lori looked genuinely surprised and Carol was shocked to realize that her throat ached just to see Lori’s expression. It was clear that, without any reason at all, Lori had judged Daryl. She had assumed him capable, or even likely, of behaving a certain way based on some very limited information and a great deal of assumption. 

“I didn’t mean...” Lori said.

“I know you didn’t,” Carol said quickly. “But—I just thought I’d let you know. What you think you see isn’t always reality.”

“I didn’t mean...” Lori stammered again.

“I know you didn’t,” Carol repeated. “I know. But you should know that Daryl? He’s not what you believe him to be. He’s not his brother, either. And—I’m very comfortable in my room, so you don’t need to...worry about me. Or talk about me with anybody else that might be worried. Nobody was very worried when I was in a tent with my husband.”

“Carol...” Lori tried to interrupt.

Carol shook her head.

“I’m not angry,” she said, cutting Lori off. “I never expected anything from anyone. The kindness you’ve all shown me is more than I expected. I’m not angry. And I don’t hold any kind of grudge. I only say that to say that—nobody worried because Ed was my husband and, as my husband, he was my problem. Nobody who didn’t worry then needs to worry now. I know, for a fact, that I’m safer with Daryl than I ever was with Ed.”

Lori looked a little nauseous and Carol assumed that she should feel bad for making the woman feel uncomfortable. In fact, maybe there was somewhere, deep down inside her, where she did feel bad. Maybe it was the wine, though, or maybe it was something else entirely, but she also felt bold enough that she discovered the feeling was too faint to make her truly feel bad about what she’d said.

She was safer with Daryl than she’d ever been with Ed. Tonight she would sleep well and, unlike the others, it wouldn’t be because she was only safe from the flesh-eating monsters outside. This would be the first night that she could sleep entirely free from all the monsters that had invaded her life.

Though he may not appear to be so at first glance, and though he may not even be aware of it, Daryl was certainly what Carol would consider a gentleman. He may not be the stereotypical gentleman that society showed as a representation of what every young girl should expect from a Prince Charming, but he was certainly a good man with a strong moral code by which he seemed determined to try to live—even though life didn’t exactly seem to make it easy on him.

And, even though she wouldn’t have dared to say it out loud, she didn’t feel that Daryl would have to force his way onto her if he had any desire to be with her. 

But he wasn’t interested in her like that, and she wouldn’t dare embarrass him by letting such a thought get back to him. Daryl, more than likely, had a very specific type. And Carol was almost certain that she wasn’t that type. She was, and she knew it, barely anyone’s type. That was one of the reasons that she’d ended up with Ed.

“I’m sorry,” were the only words that escaped Lori’s mouth in response. She did, indeed, look sorry. Carol didn’t know if she was sorry for what Carol had experienced, sorry that nobody stepped in to help her with Ed, sorry that she’d somewhat accused Daryl of being a certain kind of person, sorry that she might have offended Carol, or simply sorry that she’d spoken at all. She didn’t offer any clarification surrounding her apology and Carol didn’t seek any.

Sophia started to fuss again. She was getting tired and this was about the time she began to fight her desire to sleep. She’d need to be soothed with milk and the promise that sleep—which she seemed to love and hate in equal parts—wasn’t as terrible as she sometimes thought it would be. Carol rocked her body, again, in an effort to soothe her daughter before she disturbed the entire place with her cries. 

“It’s fine,” Carol said. “I promise. I just—wanted you to know that nobody has to worry about me.” Lori nodded her head. 

“Am I interrupting something?” Shane asked, walking into the room. Carol might pretend that she believed the man was there to select a puzzle or a book with which to pass a few hours, but she wasn’t stupid. Lori and Shane thought that nobody knew about their ongoing affair. Carol was pretty sure that Rick was the only one that didn’t know about it—and that had to be because he was practically blind and willfully unobservant. 

Carol smiled at him.

“Nothing at all,” she said. “I was just going to get Sophia ready for bed.”

“Goodnight, Carol,” Shane offered sincerely.

“Goodnight, Shane,” Carol said. “Lori.”

She left the room before she heard a goodnight from Lori. On her way out, and without saying anything about it or being asked to do so, Carol closed the door to the entertainment room. She made her way down the hallway to the little room that she was sharing with Daryl. The door to the room was cracked, and Carol knocked quietly at it before she stepped inside. There was a pause before she heard a response from inside.

“Yeah...” Daryl called.

Carol assumed that meant that he wanted her to come in, so she stepped inside. He was sitting on the mattress that he’d dragged to the floor from the futon. His clean shirt was clinging to him, so Carol assumed that he’d just gotten out of the shower. From the looks of it, he’d thrown the shirt on quickly and practically without drying off. 

Carol tossed the book she’d brought at the floor so she could lower herself down. Then she eased herself down onto the mattress and slowly unwrapped Sophia. 

“Got a book?” Daryl asked. 

Carol swallowed down her humor. She could give him a hard time about the stupid question, or she could accept it as an effort to make conversation. She decided to do the latter because she preferred the conversation to anything else.

“From the entertainment room,” Carol said. “There’s a lot there if you like cards or board games or puzzles. I would have brought you a book or a magazine if—if I’d known what you might be interested in.”

“Like to read,” Daryl said. Carol glanced at him and raised his eyebrows at her. She saw him bristle, but he quickly erased it with a smirk. “What? You surprised I can read?” 

Carol shook her head. She understood his defensiveness. She also understood why he felt that way. He’d probably faced more than his fair share of unfair judgement. 

“No,” she said. “I’m only interested in what it is that you like to read.”

She turned her attention to rearranging herself and getting Sophia adjusted so that she could nurse before her complaining—which was quickly growing louder—turned into a full-on fit that would be impossible to get under control quickly. It took a few tries to convince her that she wanted what she desperately wanted, but eventually Sophia latched onto Carol’s breast.

Though she didn’t look at him, Daryl must have been waiting for Sophia to be soothed, because he didn’t speak again until she was situated. He cleared his throat.

“Magazines,” he said. “I don’t usually like to sit too long so—magazines. Them books with the short stories in ‘em. The chicken soup ones? I like those ‘cause you could read it in a sitting. Just pick a story an’ go. Detective novels sometimes. If they’re good. I don’t like the ones that there’s no chance you could figure it out ‘cause it was like impossible or something.”

He leaned forward and, before Carol could rescue her book from the floor, Daryl snagged it.

She felt her face burn warm. She hadn’t expected him to have any interest at all in what she was reading, and now he was examining the book. She couldn’t even bring herself to glance at him for the time being.

“You read this?” Daryl asked. Carol heard the sound of pages shuffling. She heard the sound of him flipping through the book. She hummed out a response since her voice seemed to have retreated to some place deep down inside her. “You like it? I mean...I guess you like it. Wouldn’t read it if you didn’t. You—think it’s real?” 

Carol swallowed.

“No,” she said. “I don’t think it’s real. At least—it’s not real to me. In my experience. Maybe that’s why I read it, though. Because—it’s not real. But maybe, sometimes, I wish it was. Not—not all of it. Just some of it.”

Daryl cleared his throat a couple of times before he excused himself. He got up, the book going with him, and went for his bottle of whiskey. He stood, across the room, sipping from the bottle and leafing through Carol’s book.

“I guess—in a way ain’t none of it real,” he mused. “Maybe that’s why we read anything—get a couple minutes break from the shit-show we live in.” 

“I think so,” Carol offered.

Daryl hummed to himself. 

“Worst damn thing about it is how many people livin’ so as to need a way to escape their lives,” Daryl said. “Want some wine?” 

Carol smiled to herself at the offer. The wine was the cheapest kind there was—with a twist off top—but Daryl wanted her to have some. It was clear because he was already unscrewing the lid of the bottle. Sophia would be done nursing soon and Carol had no doubt that she would sleep. Carol wasn’t as tired as she should be, and she wasn’t going to sleep when her daughter drifted off. 

And she was enjoying the company.

“Please,” she said. 

Daryl smiled to himself. He seemed so pleased with such a simple word. He tucked her book under his arm and brought the wine and whiskey. He passed her the bottle and she put it down to wait until Sophia was done.

Daryl sat down with the book, and Carol noticed that he put it on the floor, but he put it some distance away from her. Maybe without meaning to, he was making it clear that he intended for them to pass some of the evening together. Perhaps he was hungry for company. Carol didn’t mind.

“Maybe,” she said, “this place will offer some of us a chance to live our lives in a way that we don’t need to escape from as much.” 

Daryl laughed to himself.

“You got a lotta faith in this place,” Daryl said. 

“Maybe I’m just hoping for the best,” Carol said.

“Optimism,” Daryl said.

“I’m trying my best to cultivate it,” Carol offered.

Daryl smiled to himself. He nodded his head. 

“It’s good,” he said. “We sure could use it. Besides—it’ll be good for her. Kids oughta grow up with that shit. Don’t need all the negativity.” 

“That’s the idea,” Carol said, touching her daughter’s face as the baby nursed and fought the sleep that was creeping up on her. “To create the best kind of life that I can for her. She deserves that.”

“Yeah,” Daryl said. Carol smiled to herself at the simple confirmation that her child—a child who hadn’t had the warmest reception from the world into which she’d come—was worthy of something as simple as a good life. “She does.”


	11. Chapter 11

AN: Here we are, another chapter here. 

I hope you enjoy. Let me know what you think! 

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Daryl thought it was probably creepy to lie awake at night and watch somebody while they slept. He found himself unable to quit doing just that, however. 

He was blaming it on boredom and the fact that such a sensation was something with which he was almost entirely unfamiliar given the way that they’d been living their lives lately. Since the world had somehow turned into the stuff of nightmares and the dead had decided to come to life, boredom had become a distant memory. They typically spent every moment on their toes. 

With safety, though, came the opportunity for boredom. 

There was also the opportunity for Daryl’s mind to wander aimlessly—a pastime that his mind had always seemed to enjoy even when he didn’t particularly care for it—and it reminded him that he had trouble sleeping. He’d always had trouble sleeping, of course, but sleep came easier when his body was exhausted and he knew that he had, perhaps, mere moments to get enough rest to keep his body going just a while longer. He had a lot more trouble sleeping when he had the time and energy to overthink.

Daryl had drank a good bit of liquor, but he’d also drank a good bit of water. He’d diluted it so that the alcohol wouldn’t leave him with an unbearable hangover. He’d also diluted it so that he didn’t get too drunk and risk scaring Carol. Sometimes he was a jolly drunk. Sometimes he got to feeling sorry for himself and he got to being the most negative person that ever walked the face of the Earth. He wouldn’t ever hurt Carol, but he didn’t want her even fearing that he might if she caught him all rolled up in his misery. The water kept him from getting far enough into the hole to begin to dwell on everything he’d ever suffered. 

Carol hadn’t drank much wine, but she’d seemed to drink enough. Her cheeks had flushed pink and she’d smiled more than Daryl had ever seen her smile before. Of course, she really hadn’t had too much to smile about since they’d met.

She was lighthearted when she drank and, perhaps, that had as much to do with Daryl’s mood as the water. It had been contagious, and Daryl had happily listened while she talked about this one time that she’d snuck out of her parents’ house—the only time she’d ever done such a thing—to go with some friends down to a railroad track nearby and drink Boone’s Farm wine until she’d thrown up. She’d had to pretend, the next day, that she was fine even though she’d felt like she’d been beaten on the head with a shovel.

Daryl had laughed. The way she told the story had made him wish that he was there, and it had led him to share with her a similar story in which he’d slipped down to a hole-in-the-wall bar not too far from where he’d grown up with Merle once their Mama had been out cold for the night. It had been one time back when the old man wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Merle had been nearly old enough to drink at the bar legally, but Daryl had barely been tall enough to see over the bar. The bar tender was a man of low morals, though, and he’d let the boys take a couple of beers out back to share over a pack of Pall Malls that Merle had lifted off their mother. Daryl had smoked enough cigarettes and drank enough beer that he’d thrown up violently out back of the bar, and Merle had dragged him home—all the while scolding him that he’d have to be more of a man than that if he ever wanted to live up to the reputation that Merle had a mind to set for the both of them.

Daryl didn’t know what time it might be. He didn’t have a watch and the clock in the room obviously ran off batteries that were dead. 

They’d talked for what felt like forever until the words came slower and slower and the stories made less and less sense. They’d talked right up until Carol had stopped right in the middle of a sentence and Daryl had looked over to find her sleeping—chin crooked uncomfortably downward and neck strained—like she’d simply just run out of juice. 

He’d touched her only enough to help her slide into a comfortable position and he’d offered a pillow and covered her with a blanket. She’d barely awakened from the sleep that had suddenly and completely overtook her, but she’d mumbled something at him that he chose to take as a “thanks”. 

Even the baby was fast asleep in her little pen.

Daryl was left alone with his insomnia and all the thoughts that managed to pinball around in his brain whenever he tried to simply will it to be still. 

He’d picked up the book that Carol brought to the room—only momentarily wishing he’d gone to get something he might prefer to read—and he thumbed through the thing and read parts of it at random. For a few moments, it had entertained him because it was entirely unlike anything he might have ever chosen to read. It hadn’t taken long, though, before he’d found himself mildly disgusted by the book and he’d tossed it to the side. 

A few select passages in, and he was pretty sure he had the gist of the whole novel. A guy named Felipe—all muscles and foreign accent—had what the book referred to as a “throbbing member” that must have at least vaguely resembled the business end of a Louisville Slugger. He’d used it to assault—even though the book had suggested that the encounter was pleasant, Daryl couldn’t much believe that some woman would enjoy the throbbing Louisville Slugger attack—a woman named Isabelle who had been visiting the Italian seaside.

Admittedly Daryl knew very little about women, and he understood even less about them than he simply knew to be true, but if Felipe’s throbbing member was what interested them, they would do better not to so much as look in Daryl’s direction.

That was when Daryl had found himself first staring at Carol. The book had been tossed to the side and he was still overcoming some of the lingering disgust that the passages he’d read had left in his brain, and he’d watched her sleeping.

She had said that she wished some of it was real. That was why she’d read books like that. She’d wanted to escape her reality, and she’d wished that some of it was real. 

Daryl could imagine, without any effort at all, why Carol might have wanted to escape her reality. Her husband—or what was left of him—was cold in a shallow grave. Though he was gone, the marks he’d left on her skin hadn’t even had the time to heal yet. They were the garish green that bruises grew to be at this point in their healing. They’d be gone eventually but, even with them gone, there were plenty of marks he’d left behind that would stay with Carol for probably the rest of her life—marks that were both physical and otherwise. 

Carol had a lot that she’d probably wanted to escape. Daryl understood that sentiment. There was a lot that he’d wanted to escape during his life as well.

But which parts of the book had she wished were real? 

Daryl had mused over it for a little while, and he’d smoked a cigarette in the bed, flicking the ashes into a water bottle, while he watched Carol sleeping. 

Did she wish that, like Isabelle, she might travel to the Italian seaside? Did she wish for that kind of adventure? Or was it Felipe that she was after? 

Ed hadn’t been much to look at. He certainly wasn’t the chiseled-chested Felipe with things rippling and bulging all over his body. He’d been muscled enough, though, to overpower Carol. Did she want someone stronger than Ed, or did she simply want someone who—unlike Ed and very much like Felipe—wanted to, as the book had described it one passage, worship at the altar of her tempestuous bosoms...whatever the hell that might mean? Was she the kind of woman who expected a man to wield some kind of weapon like Felipe’s trusty Louisville Slugger? Had Ed been so endowed? Or was that part of the story that she accepted as nothing more than fantasy? 

Daryl had very little knowledge of how his dick might measure up to others. Admittedly, he hadn’t exactly whipped the damn thing out for the perusal of too many people. His brother had been overly proud of his dick, though, and had bragged that it was an impressive gift to all of woman-kind. Though Daryl had never bothered to measure either one of them, he knew his was comparable to his brother’s. He knew very little else about it, though. Up until now, his dick had really only had two primary functions: it allowed him to piss almost anywhere he liked, and it got hard at really inconvenient times to either embarrass him or send him off to jerk off somewhere in private.

Unlike his brother, Daryl had never felt that is dick was his prized possession. Also unlike his brother, he couldn’t really brag about how the whole of womankind might feel about it. He hadn’t really been driven to introduce it to the women he’d known.

Maybe it was for the better. If most of the women out there were looking for a throbbing ten inch cock like the one that Felipe was wielding, they’d have laughed Daryl off the face of the Earth if he’d dared to show them what it was that he was carrying around.

Still, he was almost certain that Ed hadn’t been packing like that either—after all, it would take some impressive pants to hide something like that—and Daryl would almost bet that Carol knew that such a fantasy was likely just fantasy.

Of course, he didn’t know why it really mattered to him. 

It wasn’t like Carol was interested in fucking him. 

She was so fresh out of a marriage to an absolute asshole that Daryl could still make out the man’s handprint on the upper part of her arm. 

And besides that, she deserved better. She deserved better than the asshole she was married to, and she deserved better than Daryl. Maybe there wasn’t that much to choose from in what was left of this world, but that didn’t mean that she ought to settle, either, for someone who had really never been worth much of anything.

Carol wasn’t interested in him at all, and it was better that way, really.

After he’d dug himself a pit to wallow in, he’d had a few more swigs of the liquor and another cigarette. He’d closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but nobody really wanted to sleep on the negative thoughts of every bad thing that they’d ever done in their lives. Nobody wanted to go to bed rolling over and over in their mind the fact that they’d really done relatively little to contribute to the world and they wouldn’t be missed at all when they were gone.

Instead, he’d allowed the extra liquor to help him make a shift in his thoughts and, instead of dwelling on the negative, he’d forced himself to think of something nice—even if the something nice was no less fantastical than the worlds that they sought in books.

What if a woman like Carol did want a man like Daryl?

What if he was good enough for her? What if he could offer her the kind of life that she didn’t need to seek escape from?

The thought of it gave him an unfamiliar warmth in his belly that he might have blamed on the liquor if he weren’t confident that it came from something else. 

What if he hadn’t lost literally everything that he’d ever had—precious little though that had ever been—when the world went belly up and, instead, he was in the same kind of position that Ed had been in? What if, unlike Ed, he wasn’t willing to piss away something so precious? 

Daryl could imagine that he might even want a life like Rick’s—a life where he had some respect because of the job to which he’d chosen to dedicate himself—but everyone in the group knew that Lori was fucking Shane on the side even though they all kept it hush-hush. Daryl wouldn’t want that kind of life. If he were married to a woman like Carol, he’d be greedy to some degree. He’d want her to be just his wife. He wouldn’t want to share her with any other man. 

Daryl laughed to himself in the dim light of the lamp. His brother had always said he was shit at sharing. Maybe he was right. He didn’t like to share his things. And the more he valued something, the less he liked the idea of sharing it. 

Daryl’s heartbeat had picked up speed earlier with his irritation and anxiety. Now, it slowed down and hit a steady and calm rhythm. He watched Carol sleeping. Her breathing was even and steady. Her eyes were closed and she was perfectly still except for the fact that, every now and again, she twitched uncontrollably as some nerve or muscle chose to rebel against the stillness of sleep.

What if she liked being close to him as much as he liked being close to her? What if she really liked it—enough that she didn’t want it to change? 

She was small and light. When she leaned against him in the truck to find room to sleep, she barely weighed anything at all. She deserved to be treated tenderly. Daryl didn’t know how tender he was—he was pretty clumsy by nature—but he could imagine treating her just the way she deserved. He could imagine himself, too, treating her however it was she liked. Maybe he couldn’t offer her the Italian seaside, and maybe he wasn’t quite proportioned like Felipe the Conqueror, but he could offer her the so-called abandon that her book spoke of if that’s what she wanted. 

Even if he wasn’t sure how, he would be willing to learn.

Of course, one of the reasons that his dick had been very little of a friend to him to this point in life was that he became aware that women didn’t like to teach men such things past a certain age and, by the time he’d become aware of such a thing, he’d been well beyond that age.

But it didn’t matter because this was just fantasy, really—something to help lure him to sleep when he might otherwise spend the whole night awake. It was no different than any other time he’d imagined what it might be like to have one of those respectable television families. The only difference, this time, was that he was borrowing a flesh and blood woman and her infant daughter for his daydreaming. 

This was just something he was imagining to ward off boredom and to help himself sleep. And it wasn’t hurting anyone, even if it was a little creepy to lie awake at night and watch someone while they slept. 

When Daryl’s imaginings began to have the desired relaxing effect on him, he reached over and switched off the lamp that he’d moved to the floor. He adjusted himself on the mattress, careful not to disturb Carol as she slept next to him, and closed his eyes.

To his mind, he brought once more the image of a life that he imagined he would have liked to have, even if it wasn’t what a man like him got. And with his own kind of fantasy playing in his mind, he found the sleep that he’d been looking for to carry him away from his reality.


	12. Chapter 12

AN: Here we are, another chapter here.

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

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Carol woke before anyone else. It was as though her instincts let her know that Sophia would be waking up soon, and Carol didn’t want her daughter disturbing the sleep of everyone in the CDC. 

They were all going to be living, it seemed, in very close quarters for a while. They would, at the very least, be living there until the threat was somehow over. Carol wasn’t sure how that was going to happen, or how long they’d have to reside in the CDC while the government cleaned things up, but she wasn’t trying to get off on the wrong foot with everyone by making them concerned that Sophia was going to ruin their sleep every night and every morning.

Daryl was sleeping deeply. On his back, he snored. When he rolled onto his side, though, he was mostly quiet with only the occasional hint of a snore. Carol watched him while she fed Sophia and waited for enough of the morning to pass so that it would be considered proper to wander the halls and explore their new home.

Where Daryl lie on his side hugging the pillow he’d claimed for his own, his shirt was bunched up around him and Carol could see, peeking out from the fabric, the evidence of a cruel life. 

Carol didn’t know who had put the angry red slashes on Daryl’s back for certain, or when they’d been etched into his skin, but he’d told her enough stories in the truck and during the night before that she could guess that, more than likely, his receiving those lashes had been something that had shaped who Daryl had become from a fairly early point in his life. 

It could have gone in a number of directions—perhaps evidenced by what his brother, Merle, had become—but Carol thought Daryl had turned out to be a pretty wonderful man in spite of the angry red marks and the cruelty of their creator. 

Seeing and having the chance to study the red marks while Daryl slept brought a sense of sadness over Carol. Something inside of her wished that she could have protected him from what he’d clearly suffered. Of course, she knew that she could have done very little to protect Daryl in any case. She couldn’t even protect herself and her daughter. It had taken the work of the undead to save them from Ed.

Even though she wouldn’t mention the marks, she respected Daryl for what he’d overcome and, more than that, she respected him for the man that he’d become in spite of what he’d clearly experienced. 

Even though she wouldn’t mention the marks, they made her feel understood on some level on which she hadn’t felt understood by the members of their group that she was sure judged her for having ended up with Ed in the first place—and for having stayed beyond the first time that he’d lost his temper and she’d lost the respect that she’d had for her husband.

They didn’t understand. They didn’t know what it was to love someone even as they slowly did everything in their power to strip you of that love and turn it into bitterness and anger. They didn’t understand what it was to hope that this change was something temporary—a storm to be weathered—even as your gut told you that it was much more than that. They didn’t understand that Carol had truly begun to believe the things that Ed told her, even though somewhere deep inside of her a nagging voice suggested that he was wrong.

They didn’t understand that going, sometimes, felt every bit as impossible as staying.

But, maybe, Daryl understood—at least a little.

And for that, Carol would keep his secret. She wouldn’t speak of the angry red marks—not if he didn’t.

When Sophia started to fuss, and Carol found herself unable to immediately get her daughter’s displeasure under control, she quickly turned her body somewhat away from Daryl. As he woke, Carol noticed out of the corner of her eye that even his waking instinct was to tug at his shirt and pull it into place. He sat up on the mattress, clearly half asleep, and stared at Carol. 

Maybe he was trying to tell if she’d seen anything. She didn’t say a word about the scars that worried him. Instead, she offered an apology for Sophia’s fussing as she bounced her daughter on her leg.

“Ain’t shit to be sorry for,” Daryl offered. “Kid’s allowed to cry sometimes. Somethin’ wrong with her or she’s just pissed?” 

Carol laughed to herself. 

“I think she’s just pissed,” Carol said. “Bored? She’s not wet. I changed her. She’s not hungry because I just fed her. She’s just...”

“A baby,” Daryl offered.

Carol sighed. 

“She’s going to wake everyone up and they’re going to hate her for it,” Carol said.

“Fuck ‘em,” Daryl said. “Here—you gettin’ tired. Give her here.” 

Carol was surprised when Daryl lifted her daughter out of her arms. She was getting frustrated with her inability to calm the little girl and Daryl recognized that. He had no reason to recognize it, or to care, but he did. Sophia continued to fuss once she was in Daryl’s arms, so he got up and left the mattress. He fumbled through the contents of the little box of supplies Carol had moved beside the crib and he came up with a pack of pacifiers that he ripped open, one-handed, enough to free one of them. He offered pacifier to Sophia. She stopped crying as she considered it, and she stared at Daryl with her brow furrowed. Tears still hung in her eyelashes and she whimpered, not sure how long she wanted to wait before launching back into a fit.

Daryl seemed more amused than bothered by her tears. He smiled at her angry expression and Carol watched him rub the nipple of the pacifier back and forth on the bottom lip that Sophia protruded out at him. 

In the end, his antics won Sophia over and she took the pacifier. Carol had barely been able to keep up with a pacifier for Sophia. Her daughter had enjoyed them when they could be found and cleaned, but their life hadn’t been very conducive to keeping up with them. This one came with a clip that Daryl gingerly fashioned to the baby’s shirt.

He rummaged back in the box and came out with a few other items. Without saying anything to Carol, he offered a small stuffed animal to Sophia. She accepted it and watched everything he was doing with his free hand with a great deal of attention while she sucked on the pacifier. 

He had a book in his hand. 

Daryl sat down on the mattress and immediately deposited Sophia in his lap. He opened the book and turned the cardboard cover to a page before he started to read it aloud to Sophia—a simple tale about two mice who learned to be the best of friends despite some simple differences they had.

When he was done reading, Sophia abducted the board book and turned it around and around in her hands, twisting her wrists back and forth to happily move the book. 

It was only then that Daryl looked back at Carol. Immediately his cheeks ran red and his thumb found its way to his mouth. He chewed at the corner of his thumb, nipping a piece of skin free with his teeth that he unceremoniously spit somewhere to the side and, likely, among their blankets.

“What?” He asked. 

“Hmm?” Carol hummed at him.

“What the hell you lookin’ at me like that for? I weren’t gonna hurt her,” Daryl said.

Carol laughed to herself.

“That was actually the very last thing on my mind,” Carol said. She shifted around on the mattress and changed her position so that she was at least somewhat facing Daryl and Sophia. “No—I didn’t think you were going to hurt her. I was actually thinking how good you are with her. You’re a natural.” 

“Stop,” Daryl commanded.

Carol couldn’t help but smile at the way that he said it and the way that he looked at her, quickly averting his eyes to watch Sophia’s toying with the board book. 

He told her to stop, but it was clear that he enjoyed the praise. He simply, Carol assumed, wasn’t sure how to respond to it. 

“You are,” Carol said. “She’s as happy as she can be right now. I couldn’t do that.”

“You was gettin’ frustrated,” Daryl said. “Tired. That’s all. I just woke up. I’m fresh. It ain’t nothin’ more’n that. It’s the stuff that got her calm.”

Carol swallowed her smile back and nodded her head.

“If that’s what you want to believe,” she offered softly. “I can take her. You don’t have to hold her.”

“She looks good,” Daryl said. “Comfortable.”

Carol accepted that as his way of saying that he preferred to hold the baby without forcing him into actually saying the words. She didn’t press. Sophia was content and Daryl wasn’t bothered by holding her, so Carol saw no reason to force her out of his lap.

“She does look comfortable,” Carol agreed.

Sophia glanced at her when she spoke that time, but immediately she returned her attention to the very serious examination that she was giving the book. Daryl helped her turn a page. Then he laughed to himself.

“Wish to hell I’da knowed they was books in that box last night,” Daryl said. “I couldn’t get to sleep.”

“They’re all children’s books,” Carol said.

“Woulda been fine with me,” Daryl said. “I ended up readin’ some of your book.” 

Carol felt her stomach clench. She felt ashamed of the books because she enjoyed them—for what they were—but she knew that they weren’t respectable literature by any stretch of the imagination. She felt her face run warm. Daryl smirked at her, though, and furrowed his brows.

“You said you—wish some of it was true,” Daryl said. Carol shrugged her shoulders in response. It felt like the only response that she could make. Daryl cleared his throat and nodded his head. “Which part?” He asked.

“What?” Carol asked. She was surprised that Daryl was asking her a question about the reading material instead of simply giving her a hard time for her interest in the book. She hadn’t prepared herself for a question.

“Which part you wish was true?” Daryl asked.

“I haven’t read that one,” Carol said.

“But they was a reason you took it off the shelf,” Daryl offered. “You told me they was other books down there. Why’d you pick that one an’ not—not somethin’ else?” 

“How much did you read?” Carol asked.

“Enough to know that book ain’t right to read out loud to Soph here,” Daryl offered.

Carol’s cheeks ran hotter than they had before. She imagined they had to practically be glowing red. 

“If you’re just going to make fun of me...” Carol said.

“It’s an honest question,” Daryl responded.

“I like the romance,” Carol offered.

Daryl laughed to himself.

“I ain’t makin’ fun!” He said quickly. Sophia stopped what she was doing and craned her neck to look at him. He assured her that all was fine and she only stared at him a moment before she returned to what she was doing and accepted his assessment of the situation. “I ain’t,” he said softly. “But—the romance? I don’t know a lot about romance—and I saw a lotta things in that book—but I weren’t exactly thinking none of them was romance.”

“Some of it is,” Carol said. “And I told you—I haven’t read that one. Maybe it’s not very good. It isn’t fair, though...I haven’t asked you to defend anything that you like.”

Daryl held a hand up in her direction. She glanced at his face and realized, for just a moment and very much to her horror, that her vision was blurring slightly. Daryl’s stance was similar to one that he might take if he were about to try to pet an animal that he wasn’t sure was domesticated. He shushed her quietly.

“You don’t gotta defend nothin’,” he said. “Hell—I was just askin’. I take it back. Read whatever you want.” 

Carol swiped at the one warm tear that had escaped.

“Stupid,” she muttered. It was nothing more than embarrassment that had chased the salty liquid from her eyes.

“It’s OK,” Daryl offered.

“I don’t know about that book,” Carol said. “But—sometimes there’s romance. Flowers and...candles and...I don’t even know. Just—romance. Like...”

“I get it,” Daryl said, interrupting her when it was clear that she really wasn’t sure how to continue. Carol kept her eyes down a moment longer. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. Daryl cleared his throat. “I do. Sorry I asked. You right. Don’t owe nobody an explanation about shit—especially me.” 

Carol dared to roll her eyes up to look at him, then. He was sitting there, still holding a satisfied Sophia who sucked her pacifier happily and tried to manipulate the book into doing things it simply wasn’t going to do. He was looking at her, too, with something on his face that Carol hadn’t seen in a very long time.

It was genuine concern. It wasn’t disgust like she frequently saw from Ed. It wasn’t pity like she frequently saw from everyone else. It was genuine concern. And just the sight of it threatened to return the tears to her eyes that she’d chased away.

“Let’s just forget it?” Carol asked.

Daryl nodded his head.

“Sorry I brung it up,” he offered.

Carol shook her head. She forced a smile.

“No,” she said. “Don’t be. I think—it’s late enough. Let’s find that dining area and kitchen again. I’ll see what kind of rations we have for breakfast.” 

“I can help cook or—whatever,” Daryl offered. Carol could hear a hint of panic in his voice like he felt obligated to make the offer but unsure about whether or not he could actually fulfill it. She smiled at him genuinely then.

“You entertain Sophia,” Carol said. “It’ll help me more than you can imagine. I’ll cook the breakfast.”


	13. Chapter 13

AN: Here’s another chapter. 

So as much as I love Caryl, you guys also know that I love for characters to have other relationships, too. I like for them to have the chance to grow in friendships as well as in their romantic relationship. That shouldn’t be expected to be any different here, even if what I write veers off from canon. 

Also, as I’m planning ahead, I must once again ask your forgiveness for the absolutely wrecked timeline that I’m about to follow. Please excuse the weird aging that’s bound to take place with Sophia at certain points. I ask the same suspension of disbelief that you had with Carl on the show who was able to go from a baby-faced kid to a practical man in something like two “universe years”. I’m sorry! I’ll do my best. LOL

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

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Andrea had been one of the few members of the group to show some interest in Sophia. She’d also been one of the few members of the group to openly show her distaste for Ed, going so far as to challenge him, once, not too long before his death.

She was four or five years Carol’s junior, and she’d taken a considerably different path in life than Carol had, even though they’d ended up at the same place now. She’d told Carol that she’d been a lawyer. She’d dedicated her life to helping others through the kinds of cases that she preferred to work. 

Her little sister, Amy, had been a great deal younger than Andrea. She’d been visiting Andrea from college when the whole thing had happened. Andrea had protected Amy more like a mother than a sister from the time that Carol had met them, but she’d admitted to Carol that life and the age difference between them meant that she’d never spent a great deal of time with her sister. She felt guilty for their lack of relationship. Andrea had found a positive in all of this because she thought she would finally have the chance to really get to know Amy and to grow close to her. 

But Amy had been killed the same night that Ed had died. 

After dinner was done at the CDC, Lori and Jacqui had offered to help Carol with the dishes. Lori hadn’t failed to notice that Andrea hadn’t offered her assistance. It didn’t matter to her that Andrea sat alone, removed from the group and staring off into space, or that there was hardly enough room to do the dishes with three sets of hands in the cramped space of what had once been a break room. Lori’s only concern was whether or not she was being asked to do more than her share of work.

Carol was more concerned about the mental state of Andrea than she was about whether or not she had one more cup to wash than she would have if she’d given the job to the blonde woman who had seemed like she’d be content to disappear into thin air entirely.

When everyone had gone their separate ways to find entertainment, Andrea was still sitting at the table. Dale had tried to coax her to do something to entertain herself, so she’d settled for taking a book that he’d offered her. It lay on the table, unopened, in front of her. 

Carol lingered to clean the kitchen area long after it was really clean enough. She’d kept Sophia on a blanket on the floor so that her daughter could stretch her muscles, and she gathered both Sophia and her blanket up when she felt it was finally time to admit that there was no more cleaning to be done. Carol made her way into the room where Andrea was sitting at the table and she sat down beside her. 

Andrea didn’t look in her direction, and Carol didn’t take her lack of interest to heart.

“Do you mind if I sit with you?” Carol asked. “I need to feed Sophia and—well, I know that Lori prefers it if I don’t feed her where Rick’s around.”

Andrea hummed. She looked at Carol then. 

“She certainly wouldn’t want her husband to get the same ideas she’s got,” Andrea said.

Carol laughed to herself.

“Nobody knows anything about that,” Carol said.

“Except Rick, maybe,” Andrea said. She watched Carol very intently as Carol got Sophia situated to feed and convinced her that she wanted something to top off what little bit of baby food she’d eaten at dinner. Carol didn’t take Andrea’s staring as actual staring. She got the feeling that Andrea was looking at her without really seeing her. She was probably entirely unaware that she was staring at all.

“Do you like your room?” Carol asked.

“What?” Andrea asked.

“Your room,” Carol said. “Do you like your room?” 

“It’s a room,” Andrea said.

“My room is nice,” Carol said. “There’s lots of space. It doesn’t feel crowded. There’s room for Sophia to get down and move around. I might be imagining things, but I feel like she’s trying to get up on her hands and knees. She might actually start crawling soon.”

“When do they usually do that?” Andrea asked. “Crawl, I mean.”

Carol shrugged her shoulders.

“I never got around to reading the books,” Carol said. “I don’t know. But she’s clearly feeling some interest in exploring. She’s starting to notice things. I think that the only thing that’s kept her from crawling so far has been the fact that it hasn’t been safe to put her down anywhere. Now I can. We’re safe here.” 

“For how long?” Andrea asked.

“What?” Carol asked.

“How long?” Andrea asked. “How long are we safe here? Do we just—stay here forever?” 

Carol swallowed. She could feel the emotion behind Andrea’s questions, even though the woman was clearly doing her best to simply swallow everything down. 

Carol’s loss had brought freedom. In fact, she hadn’t even realized it before, but she felt no grief for Ed. She’d mourned her marriage to him a long time ago. She’d mourned everything she ever cared about when it came to Ed years ago. She wasn’t mourning him now. His death had brought relief. 

Andrea, though, had suffered a great loss and she was in a deep state of mourning. 

Lori hadn’t seen that. She’d been too worried about washing an extra spoon.

Carol reached her hand out and gently squeezed Andrea’s arm. Andrea moved enough to catch Carol’s hand in her own. She squeezed it.

“We’ll be here until the government cleans things up,” Carol said. “I’m sure that—the CDC is proof that they’re working on a cure.”

“We haven’t exactly seen Jenner doing much work,” Andrea pointed out.

“Maybe they’ve already found a cure. Maybe they’re distributing it,” Carol said. “It might not be long at all before things are back to normal. Six months. A year?” 

“And then?” Andrea asked. “What? What happens then?”

“We leave the CDC,” Carol said. “We—rebuild.”

Andrea laughed to herself. 

“We just pick up and go back to our lives like the world never came to a halt? There’s nothing left. We’re the only people that are left. What kind of lives do we lead?” 

Carol shrugged her shoulders.

“We’ll figure it out,” she said. “The same way we always have.”

Andrea nodded her head. She wiped at her face with her sleeve and Carol wished she had a tissue to offer her. She didn’t, though, and Andrea didn’t seem to mind the fact that her sleeve would have to suffice for the time being.

“We’ll just keep going,” Andrea said.

“That’s the idea,” Carol said. She squeezed Andrea’s hand to ground her and to remind her that she was there. When Sophia squirmed, Carol pulled her hand away only long enough to readjust things so that she could hold her daughter upright. When Sophia began to fight that, Andrea reached out for her. Carol made the transfer and held her breath, praying that, just this time, Sophia might be empathetic enough to realize that the woman needed to hold her.

Sophia seemed to understand. Andrea stood up with her, rocking her whole body to rock Sophia, and Sophia looked satisfied. She looked at Andrea—stared hard into her face—and then she nearly body slammed herself against her. Andrea kissed Sophia’s face and Sophia, satisfied with the affection, slipped her fingers into her mouth. Andrea found the pacifier that Daryl had clipped to Sophia’s outfit earlier and slipped it into her mouth and the baby began humming to herself as she leaned against her new companion.

Andrea closed her eyes as she rocked the baby and smiled to herself. 

“I always wanted to have a baby,” Andrea said. “Maybe two.”

“It looks good on you,” Carol said. Andrea didn’t respond to her. She stood there, the happy expression on her face, and simply rocked Sophia. Carol thought about it a moment. She cleared her throat. “Motherhood—it really does look good on you, Andrea. I’m sure you’d be—a wonderful mother. You could practice with Sophia some, if you’d like. It seems like she might like to have an aunt.”

Andrea’s hint of a smile faded into a frown and she brushed her lips against Sophia’s head again. She kept her eyes closed.

“I could be an honorary aunt,” she said, “but—I’ll never be a mother.”

“You have a lot of time left, Andrea,” Carol said. “You could be a mother three or four times over if you wanted.”

Andrea opened her eyes.

“In what world, Carol?” Andrea asked. “Look around. We might be spending the rest of our lives here. In the CDC. Dale is old enough to be my father. Lori—she can’t be satisfied with just the family that she has. She can’t be happy to have a husband and a son. She’s got to have a boyfriend, too. Jacqui and T-Dog? It’s just a matter of time. You know how much he cares for her and, eventually, she’s going to realize it too.” Andrea laughed to herself. Carol didn’t believe the laugher at all. “You and Daryl. What does that leave me with? Glenn? Jenner?” 

Carol laughed to herself when her chest tightened. It was the only way that she could think to get some air. 

“There’s nothing going on with me and Daryl,” Carol said.

“Except there is,” Andrea said. She shook her head. “I don’t think it’s been one of those things like Lori and Shane. I don’t think you ever would have been the type. But it’s there. Everyone can see it.”

“They can’t see anything,” Carol said, “because there’s nothing there to see. Daryl—he doesn’t see me like that.” Andrea stared at her and Carol shook her head. “He doesn’t. He sees me—he sees me as a member of the group. A friend, maybe. Someone who has a daughter that he’s somewhat fond of.”

Andrea stood there silent for a moment, continuing to rock Sophia from side to side. Carol could see that her daughter was growing sleepy. She’d go to sleep, soon, soothed by Andrea’s swaying. 

“I notice you didn’t say much about how you feel about him,” Andrea said. “You told me how he sees you, but you didn’t say—you didn’t say much about how you see him.”

Carol’s chest tightened again. She shook her head.

“It doesn’t matter,” Carol said.

“Of course it matters,” Andrea said.

“It doesn’t,” Carol said. “Because—no matter how I see him, he sees me as a friend. Nothing more. So—that’s how I’ll have to see him.”

Andrea sighed.

“There’s no life for me if we stay here,” Andrea said. “There’s no future here. I don’t have anyone.”

“You’re not alone,” Carol said. “Most of us—all we have is each other. Besides—what’s wrong with Glenn?” 

Andrea laughed to herself.

“He’s a baby,” she said. “I’d never forgive myself for corrupting him. Besides—he doesn’t see me like that.”

“He’s barely old enough to see anyone like that,” Carol said. “But we were talking about the future. Jenner?” 

“Have you noticed how creepy he is?” Andrea asked.

“I thought you wanted a baby,” Carol said. “You didn’t mention an award-winning romance.”

“Maybe I want both,” Andrea said. She sighed. “It doesn’t matter. I’m getting neither. There’s no life for me if we’re stuck in here. And—since we’re the only people alive—there’s no life for me if we leave here.”

Carol stood up and walked over to where Andrea was standing. Sophia was pretty much asleep in her arms, but Andrea failed to notice the baby was sleeping against her. Carol reached out her hands. She brushed Andrea’s hair back from her face and, using the pads of her thumbs, she wiped the few stray tears off her cheeks.

She gave her the best smile she could.

“There’s a life for you,” Carol said. “You have a future. I know—it’s hard for you to see it right now. But you have to keep living for it.”

“Why?” Andrea asked.

Carol smiled at her.

“Because it would be tragic for your babies to miss out on having you for a mother,” Carol said. At least it got a smile out of Andrea, even though Carol could still detect there were tears behind it. “Look how good you are with Sophia. She’s out already.” 

“I don’t want to be alone,” Andrea said softly.

“You won’t be,” Carol said. “None of us are alone in here, but I’ll make you a promise. I’ve never liked being alone either. If we get out of here—and there’s nobody else left alive? We’ll live together. OK? I won’t leave you alone.”

Andrea smiled, this time quite sincerely, and raised her eyebrows at Carol.

“And what’s Daryl going to say about that?” Andrea asked.

Carol’s stomach twisted.

“I told you, Daryl doesn’t see me that way,” Carol said. “Even hearing you joke about it would probably horrify him.”

“Then I won’t let him hear me,” Andrea said. “Until he’s ready to hear it. And, maybe, until you’re ready to hear it.” 

Carol wondered if there was something there—something she couldn’t see. Or was it only her feelings for Daryl that Andrea could detect. 

She couldn’t imagine that she would ever be the type that Daryl would be interested in being with. Still, just thinking about it made her somewhat nervous. 

She reached for Sophia and Andrea easily made the exchange. 

“Thank you,” Andrea said.

“For what?” Carol asked.

“For just—talking to me,” Andrea said. “For offering—to let me live with you if we leave here and find out there’s nothing more out there.”

Carol smiled at her. She reached out her hand and squeezed Andrea’s arm.

“I’m going to count on it,” Carol said. “And—Andrea?” 

Andrea hummed at her.

“I expect to see you in the morning,” Carol said. “You hear me?” Andrea hummed at her again. “Don’t let me down.” 

Andrea nodded. 

“I’ll be here,” she said. “That’s what we do, after all. We just—keep going.”


	14. Chapter 14

AN: Here we are, another chapter here. 

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

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Being underground meant that it was easy to lose track of time. Days and nights really meant nothing. They were governed by the one electric clock that glowed red with the time in the large computer room filled with computers that no longer ran. They consulted the glowing clock to decide when they should eat, and when they should sleep. It was a habit leftover from their not-so-distant-yet-impossibly-distant pasts. Daryl assumed that, eventually, they would give into their animal selves once again like their ancestors had, and they’d allow themselves to be governed by their instincts instead of the electric glow of the government-sanctioned mind control.

That was, of course, if that same government entity failed to get society back online. They were supposed to have everything they needed for as long as they needed to remain there and, so far their supplies was fine, but Daryl hadn’t seen any evidence of how or when the government could be expected to deliver more supplies. 

As the days—and possibly weeks or even months ticked on, since Daryl felt like he’d lost all track of time—most people seemed to be settling into a routine. They seemed to be settling into the space. There wasn’t much to do, so people kept busy with napping, reading, playing board games, or having conversations.

Maybe their entertainment was one reason that Daryl was starting to feel as though he was losing track of time. There were times when he was so bored that he felt like he’d fallen asleep without actually having closed his eyes.

He mostly entertained himself with Sophia. Carol didn’t seem to mind him taking up time with her baby, and he was fascinated by the fact that she never seemed bored. In fact, now that she had learned to move around, she was never bored. At first, she’d learned to simply balance herself on her hands and knees for a bit before she’d belly-flopped onto the floor and cried about the absolutely miserable condition that she clearly felt her life was in. It hadn’t taken very long, though, before she’d gotten more confident, and she’d built up enough strength to remain in her desired position. Then she’d started rocking her body back and forth. As soon as she seemed pleased with the constant redistribution of weight, Daryl had entertained himself by taking a spot next to her on the floor, in the same position, and suggesting that she mimic him and crawl forward.

Sophia had actually, somehow, mastered going backwards before she’d gotten the hang of going forward. Much to Carol’s delight, though, it hadn’t taken very long for Sophia to learn to go forward. It seemed, too, that as soon as she learned to go forward with a few nervous movements, she’d found her confidence and she’d begun practically travelling at a run on her hands and knees.

Daryl enjoyed Sophia’s company. She was simple. There was nothing complicated at all about the child. She wasn’t dramatic for the sake of it. If she was crying, there was something wrong. Even if it wasn’t something that, perhaps, they would have thought of as serious, it was serious to her. As soon as the problem was solved, though, she was as happy as anyone could ever hope to be.

Daryl enjoyed Carol’s company, too, for many of the same reasons.

Some of their group members generated a great deal of drama. Andrea was in mourning for her sister and, as far as Daryl could tell, she simply wasn’t handling it well at all. She seemed about as low as a body could get and, honestly, Daryl wasn’t sure that she’d still be with them if it weren’t for Dale watching her like a hawk for practically every hour of the day. She seemed like she’d be content to simply waste away if she were given the chance to do so. Lori was eternally unhappy. Daryl had never seen a person who so determined to be unhappy with her situation. He didn’t know if she had a middle name, but he was almost certain that “need” was it. She was always needing something. In fact, she needed more than Sophia did and, in actuality, he found her a great deal whinier about her needs than the baby.

But at least she had both Rick and Shane nearly tripping over each other to try to supply what she needed to suit her every whim.

If the two of them didn’t know what the hell was going on, and that both of them were being played by Lori, then Daryl had decided neither of them were smart enough to find their way out of a paper bag, and it was a good damn thing that they’d found the CDC or they’d have never survived outside it.

He’d told Sophia as much while he’d played with her. He imagined she was amused by his observations—though Carol suggested that much of Sophia’s humor might be contributed to gas. 

Carol wasn’t complicated like the others surrounding them. She was simply happy to be there, and she was happy that Sophia was happy. She cooked nearly every meal for them out of rations and she cleaned up without the bitching that usually issued forth from Lori. In fact, more often than not, Carol excused Lori from any kind of domestic duties just to save herself the pain of listening to the complaints—that’s what she’d told Daryl.

Carol was easy company to keep. She talked to Daryl, but more than that, she listened to him. She never treated him like she expected him to know less than her. She never cut him off when he spoke because she believed that he wouldn’t know what he was talking about. And, when he was feeling quiet, she never forced him to talk. She accepted that, sometimes, he’d rather just sit and be quiet.

Carol didn’t seem to mind being quiet with him, either, and he appreciated that. After all, just because he didn’t want to talk, that didn’t mean that he wanted to be alone.

Carol understood, even without him saying it, it seemed, that Daryl didn’t care for being alone. That was one of the reasons that she let him take Sophia with him whenever he felt like he might want to stretch his legs a little while still not being alone. When he took Sophia with him on walks around the darkened corridors of the abandoned lower-level of the CDC, Carol spent her time entertaining herself with books and taking naps in their room. She seemed to like it a great deal, and Sophia’s company suited Daryl just fine.

Sophia liked the adventures, too. At the very least, she never complained about them.

There was a great deal of the floor that remained dark and unused. They didn’t need that much room to live and Jenner said it was a drain on their power to keep the unused spaces lit. Daryl assumed that the government probably rationed their power. Much of the power had been out on the surface, so it was reasonable to assume that they weren’t able to create too much power without a full staff of employees to run the power companies.

And the government, after all, had a great deal to do if they were finding solutions to the epidemic that seemed to have shut down the whole world.

Daryl had questioned Jenner a couple of times about how, exactly, things would be cleaned up. He’d asked if there would be some kind of vaccine that was offered to those of them who were still alive. He’d asked how they planned to manage those that were dead and reanimated. He’d asked if there were other places where people were living, just like them, until the time came to come crawling back up to the surface like moles.

There was something shifty about Jenner in Daryl’s opinion, because he’d always managed to skirt every one of Daryl’s questions. He always seemed to find a reason to disappear at the very moment that Daryl presented him with something. There was work to be done, apparently, when there were questions to be answered.

He was, in theory, working night and day, but Daryl didn’t really see too much getting done. Every time he’d somewhat slinked around to see what the asshole was up to, it looked like he was just sitting and drinking at his desk with the same kind of air of depressed boredom that was starting to surround all of them.

Daryl left the asshole alone for the most part, though. 

For as much as he knew that people judged him for not being highly educated, he also know that those who were too highly educated could be difficult to deal with and difficult to understand. He accepted that it was possible that Jenner wasn’t as shady as he seemed. Maybe he was simply too smart to know how to deal with all of them and, as a result, he ran away to try to escape uncomfortable situations. 

They had the food that he’d promised them. They had the luxuries that he’d promised them. They hadn’t gone without anything since they’d come to the CDC. He might seem like he was lying, but the fact of the matter was that there was no proof that he was lying about anything.

Maybe they were really going to live there, under the care of the government, until the world above them got put back together.

The only thing they had to do was wait it out, attempt not to succumb to insanity brought on by extreme boredom, and let the electric clock on the wall govern when they acted certain ways.

It was the day that the clock changed that Daryl started to feel the overwhelming need for some answers from the man who did his best to avoid his guests at any time that wasn’t mealtime.

The clock that had once ticked off the minutes and hours of their days and nights changed.

Suddenly, it was going backward from a point of unknown origin. 

Daryl had noticed the change in the clock when, stretching his legs on a walk with Sophia while Carol had taken a shower, he’d lengthened the normal path of his walk to include the main computer room with all its dark screens and offline computers. 

Daryl had stood there staring at it for some time, assuring himself that it was actually malfunctioning and running backward a second at a time, before he’d finally gone to drop Sophia off with her mother to spend some time nursing and crawling happily around their little room. Then he’d gone in search of the scientist from whom he absolutely intended to demand some answers.

He’d found Jenner in the bubble-like office that he seemed most fond of. The man had been sitting, staring off into space, and he was drinking a bottle of some brown liquor from their overflowing collection of spirits.

Daryl beat on the door and it rattled slightly in its frame.

Jenner eyed him from his seat with a somewhat bored expression. He didn’t move, at first, like he didn’t intend to come to the door at all. 

Daryl beat on the door again, this time pissed off at the fact that Jenner seemed to think he could just ignore him entirely.

“I fuckin’ see you in there!” Daryl yelled. “Walls are made of fuckin’ glass, asshole.”

Daryl could practically hear Jenner’s sigh as he downed another swallow of the brown liquid. He put the bottle down slowly and got up from his chair. The slight wobble to his walk told Daryl that this wasn’t his first drink. He’d been there more than a few minutes.

“What can I do for you?” Jenner asked when he opened the door.

“The clock’s broke,” Daryl said.

“I’m sorry? What?” Jenner asked.

“The clock,” Daryl said. “It ain’t countin’ up no more. It’s countin’ down. What the hell’s that all about?” 

Jenner laughed to himself.

“It isn’t broken,” he said. “Actually—it’s working just like it was designed to work.”

“It’s goin’ backwards,” Daryl said. “What’s it countin’ down?” Daryl asked.

Jenner sighed. He shook his head. 

“It doesn’t matter, really,” he said.

“Matters to me, asshole,” Daryl said. He put his hand up in time to stop the door when Jenner moved to close it and shut him back outside the glass bubble. “What the hell is that clock countin’ down to?” 

Jenner laughed to himself. He raised his eyebrows and nodded his head. 

“You’re right,” he said. “Maybe—it matters. Gather the others. Tell them to meet me in the main computer room. We’ve got to talk about—what comes next.”

“You mean the government comin’ to get us?” Daryl asked. His stomach tightened. On the one hand, he wanted to believe that the government was coming, just as they’d all believed, and that the timer was marking the time they had left to prepare to venture back into the world above them. On the other hand, Daryl’s gut told him that wasn’t the case at all.

Jenner turned to walk away, back toward his bottle.

“Get the others. Let’s meet in the main computer room.”


	15. Chapter 15

AN: Here we are, another chapter here.

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

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“It was installed as a failsafe in the event of a major catastrophe,” Jenner said.

He’d brought them all into the room filled with the quiet, dark-screened computers. It was the large room where the clock was mounted that had begun to run quickly toward some time that was unknown to them. 

They sat around in chairs to listen to the man’s story—many of them not having abandoned entirely the entertainment with which they’d been engaged when he’d requested they gather together outside of their normal mealtime gatherings.

“This place has bacteria in it that you wouldn’t even want to dream about. If it ever had the chance to get out and spread, it would wipe out the entire population—or whatever’s left of it,” Jenner said.

“Yeah—seems like something already got out,” Shane offered. “If you haven’t noticed, there are corpses outside that are just walking around like they don’t have anything else to do and don’t have the expectation to be dead and still.”

“It was something unlike anything we’d ever seen before,” Jenner said. “We’ve been working to find a cure to the virus—day and night—since the first case was reported and we realized it wasn’t some kind of elaborate hoaxe from someone seeking their fifteen minutes of fame. Scientists from all over the world. At least—I guess they’re still out there. After we lost connection...” He let his sentence fade out before he picked it up again in a different starting place. “The other diseases, though—they’re the things of nightmares. If they were to combine...I’m talking about plagues that you believed were long dead. The government knew that couldn’t be allowed to happen. So they put in the safeguard in place. In the event of a catastrophe, the CDC would keep running until the last possible minute. It would literally be the last stronghold to go. The power would stay on as long as possible to allow the government every opportunity to restore order. It would well and truly mean that humanity had simply stopped if the CDC were to shut down. Nobody ever knew how long the power would last—at least not exactly—but I guess we know now.”

“So you’re sayin’ that—we’re runnin’ outta power?” Daryl asked.

“When the clock strikes zero,” Jenner said, glancing over his shoulder at the numbers that seemed to be racing faster than a regular timer.

“And I’m guessin’ that the government—it ain’t comin’ to give us more,” Daryl said.

“We wouldn’t be in this situation if the government were running,” Jenner said. “This—this is a sign that the government has completely shut down. Humanity as we knew it is done. There’s no more electricity. Everything up there has stopped functioning.”

“It’s not like the world ended while we were in here,” Shane offered.

“Look around,” Andrea said. “The world ended a long time ago. We’re just holding on for—something.”

“The world didn’t end,” Daryl said. “The government mighta shut down, but the government ain’t the world. Power ain’t the world. We’ve done fine without it. Hell—fuckin’ ages people lived without it.”

“So we leave,” Rick said. “We pack up and we go back out there.”

“Not exactly,” Jenner said.

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” Daryl asked.

“I told you that once the doors closed, they wouldn’t open again,” Jenner said. “There was always a point where lockdown would occur to save whatever might be left of the human race. I knew it was coming. The exterior doors were locked days ago.”

“What the hell do you mean locked?” Daryl asked.

“I mean it the only way I know how to mean it,” Jenner said. “Locked. We’re locked in.”

“Then you unlock them,” Daryl said. He could feel fear churning in his gut. Daryl had never done well with fear. It tended to morph itself into other emotions that he was better equipped to deal with. The fear that rolled around in his gut at the moment was quickly threatening to turn into boiling anger. 

“It doesn’t work that way,” Jenner said. 

Daryl felt the fear-turning-to-anger surge up inside of him. He thought he could feel it like a hot liquid rising up to burn his shoulders and chest and throat. He tried to swallow it down before it exploded out of him, but it would have to go somewhere. It would have to come out somehow. 

“That’s sure as hell how locks work,” he growled out. “You can’t keep us locked up down here forever until we starve to fuckin’ death or run outta air or some shit!”

“That’s not how it works either,” Jenner said. “If the germs here were allowed to get out, the whole world—or whatever is left of it—would be in danger. The government couldn’t allow that, so they set it up so that the building would self-destruct. When the clock reaches zero, there will be a wave of gas and heat hot enough to kill every dangerous, living thing in the building.”

“You mean it’s going to blow up?” T-Dog asked. Jenner barely nodded, but he really didn’t need to move his head too dramatically. They were all watching him closely enough to be able to see the slight movement. “We’re going to blow up?” 

“It’ll be quick and painless,” Jenner said. “Less than a millisecond and it’ll all cease to be. There will be no more suffering...just peace.”

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Daryl had heard of people blacking out with fear or anger and, in essence, waking up to find that they’d acted in a way that was entirely unlike them while they’d been in some kind of state of extreme stress.

Maybe that was what had happened to him.

He remembered very little of the time that passed just after Jenner told them that they’d be blown to pieces by the exploding building. His anger had taken over. He’d only somewhat come back into himself when he’d heard Carol yelling out at Jenner about Sophia.

She wasn’t even concerned that she’d die by being blown to bits and burned until there was nothing left. The only thing she feared was that her daughter would die in such a way—that her daughter would die at all. 

Carol usually remained fairly quiet around the others, and she hardly ever spoke out against something that someone had to say, presumably because her husband would have punished her for having opinions that were contrary to his own, but she’d yelled at Jenner because she’d felt so passionate about his trapping them there to die.

The fire-box must have been fairly easy to get open, because Daryl didn’t remember shattering the glass to gain ownership of the axe. He did remember, though, Jenner yelling at him that his efforts to break down the door were futile. The door was made to withstand things that he couldn’t even imagine. They absolutely would not fall to the efforts of one man wielding an axe. 

But Daryl was at least going to try. If he was going to die, if Carol was going to die, and if Sophia was going to die, he was at least going to try. The building might still blow up around them. He might still be incinerated, but he was going to die with the axe in his hands and he was going to die trying to tear the door down to earn them some freedom.

When the door did open before him, Daryl knew that it wasn’t the axe that had freed them. 

Jenner was yelling at them that the upper-level doors would never open, but Daryl wasn’t listening to that. They’d find a way out. 

He immediately yelled to Carol to come with him, and she hit her feet. The only possessions she had on her were those that she carried the small bag that held some of Sophia’s requirements. Carrying it around with her, often slung over her shoulder, made it easy for her to soothe her daughter no matter where she was within the CDC. Now she brought it with her, Sophia hugged tightly to her body and further secured by the wrap in which she still commonly travelled, when she darted past Daryl at his command.

Behind them, some of their group members were deciding to stay. They were making the decision that the death offered by the CDC was preferable to life outside. Carol tried to stop when she heard them declaring that they were staying, and she called out the names of Andrea and Jacqui—two who had said they would stay—but she didn’t linger too long. Daryl reminded her quickly about Sophia and she left the two women to make their own decisions. She had to make the best decision for her daughter.

Reaching the ground floor was easy when they were all driven by adrenaline to take the stairs two at a time. On the ground floor, Daryl discovered that the glass in the windows was not ordinary glass. It deflected the blows of the axe and very nearly sent Daryl toppling backward. In a fit of anger and frustration, Daryl searched for anything else that he might use to break the windows. Finding a chair, he flung it at the glass. Rick and Shane quickly joined into the fight. They banged on the glass with anything and everything they could find, but nothing had the power to break through.

“I think I have something,” Carol said, almost frantically inserting herself into the space where they were trying desperately to achieve freedom for what was left of their group.

“No offense, Carol,” Shane snarled, “but I think it’s going to take more than a nail file to get through this glass.”

Carol was unbothered by Shane’s remark.

“Would a grenade do it?” Carol asked.

Daryl stared at her. Her hand was very visibly shaking and she wasn’t trying to conceal it. Out of the diaper bag that she carried, Carol produced a grenade. Daryl swallowed. He hadn’t known that Carol—his shotgun passenger and roommate—had been packing to the point that she casually carried grenades in Sophia’s diaper bag.

“Where’d you get that?” Rick asked.

“I found it in your uniform,” Carol said. “The first day you got to the rock quarry. I just—kept it. I thought—it might come in handy.” 

“It certainly will,” Rick said.

As quickly as he could, he set the grenade to go off and tossed it next to the window. At the command to get down, Daryl somewhat wrapped his body around Carol, shielding both she and Sophia the best he could as they sought cover.

He was almost certain that his ears would never stop ringing and that his heart had actually exploded in his chest, but when he straightened up, he found that the grenade had done just what they’d hoped. It removed the window entirely. 

Daryl found his axe without much effort. He pulled Carol by the arm and, when they reached the window, he’d jumped down first before dropping the axe and offering his arms up to give Carol some help as she climbed down with Sophia. As soon as they were on the ground, he picked up the axe again and followed behind Carol.

He offered her essentially the same advice he had the night that they’d found the CDC.

“Just run for the truck,” Daryl said. “I’m behind’ja. They ain’t gonna get’cha. Don’t look back. Don’t wait on nobody. Just run for the truck.”

And she did.

Daryl followed after Carol just like he’d promised. He ran behind her and used the axe to make sure that no Walkers got close to her as she dodged them. They were mostly disoriented by the booming sound that the grenade had caused, so it wasn’t as difficult as it could have been to get through them. 

Before he knew it, they were safe in the truck and his heart was still threatening to explode out of his chest. He was still finding it impossible to believe that they’d escaped to safety.

“Andrea...” Carol lamented. It was the first word that she’d said since they’d gotten out of the building. She was safe in the truck now. Her daughter was safe. Now she could be sorry for the loss of her friend.

The relief that flooded Daryl’s chest went along perfectly with the almost choked sound that Carol made when Andrea dropped out of the window with Dale and, holding onto his hand, rushed toward the RV.

“They made it,” Carol breathed out.

Daryl didn’t respond. He simply reached and pulled Carol and Sophia both toward him. 

“Get down,” he said. 

He’d timed it just about right in his mind. He’d barely gotten the words out and wrapped himself around them, when the explosion rang out that swallowed up the building and everything surrounding it in an almost unimaginable ball of fire.


	16. Chapter 16

AN: I’ll admit that this is a bit of a transition chapter. 

I hope that you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

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They were all too shook up to risk stopping for even a moment. As soon as they left the CDC, they drove like they’d never stopped there. They crept along, in their original order, down the highway. 

Daryl couldn’t even begin to imagine where they might be going, and he could imagine that even the lead vehicle—with Rick driving Carol’s old Cherokee—knew where the road was going to take them. 

It didn’t matter. Right now all that mattered was that they were alive. 

They’d probably driven for an hour before Daryl felt like his hands were steady enough to search out a cigarette. He rolled down the window and lit the cigarette while he steered the car along behind the other vehicles. His move to some kind of action spurred Carol into movement next to him, and she turned around to pull out a duffle bag that had been wedged behind the seat since before they’d arrived at the CDC.

Daryl watched her as she burrowed around in the supplies she had there.

“You lost somethin’?” Daryl asked.

“I’m counting jars of baby food,” Carol said. “Diapers.”

“There’s more in the back of the truck,” Daryl said. “A lot more.”

“But that’s back there,” Carol said.

“We’ll stop ‘fore too long,” Daryl said. “Might drive through the night but—she got enough to get through ‘til then? Or you want me to signal that we oughta stop to get some stuff?” 

“There’s enough for the night,” Carol assured him. “And—I wouldn’t want to cause anyone any trouble. I don’t want to make them stop.”

“Fuck ‘em if they think it’s trouble to stop to get the kid some food from the back of the truck,” Daryl said. Carol didn’t respond to him, but he knew that she heard him. 

Sophia was settled for a moment. She’d accepted a stuffed toy that Carol had given her out of the seat of the truck—one that had been in there since they’d last gathered supplies—and she’d accepted a pacifier that came out of the bag of supplies that Carol always carried. 

The little girl had screamed for the first twenty minutes after they’d left the CDC, but Daryl assumed her hysterics were to be expected. They had all been terrified. Everything they’d encountered had scared him to the point that he’d damn near pissed himself. It was only reasonable to expect that an infant, without any ability to reason or any way to know what was happening, would be hysterical. Her own fear aside after surviving two explosions, she would have been shook up by the far that she could, without a doubt, sense in the bodies of Carol and Daryl.

She’d finally calmed enough to accept some milk from Carol, though, and that had helped calm her to the point that the stuffed toy and the pacifier appeased her. Now she sat in her mother’s lap with her treasures and watched Daryl while he drove. 

He kept casting glances at her to see if she lost interest in him, but she seemed pretty content to watch him while he drove and smoked.

“Good thing about the end of the world is that we left almost all our worldly goods in an unlocked truck an’ they ain’t a damn thing missing,” Daryl said. Carol hummed at him, but there really wasn’t anything that she could say to contribute to what he’d said. He waited a moment, considering what he might say next, and then he finally spoke again. “You—uh—you packin’ anymore artillery that I oughta know about?” 

“What?” Carol asked.

Daryl laughed to himself.

“A fuckin’ grenade, Carol? Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you had it, but I didn’t know you was carryin’ around military grade ammunition in the kid’s diaper bag.”

“I thought it might come in handy,” Carol said. 

“It sure did that,” Daryl said. “You didn’t tell nobody about it, though.”

“It just never came up,” Carol offered.

“You got anything else like that?” Daryl asked. “Anything that oughta—come up?”

“If you’re asking if I have any more grenades,” Carol said, “that was the only one.”

“You got anything else I oughta know about?” Daryl asked. He laughed to himself again. “I mean—you ain’t thinkin’ about blowin’ me up in my sleep or nothin’ ‘cause I snore, are you?” 

Carol finally laughed then. She realized he was teasing her. She smoothed down her daughter’s curls and rearranged the baby. Sophia yawned, lost her pacifier, and accepted it again when Carol returned it to her mouth.

“If I were ever going to blow somebody up with a grenade,” Carol said, “it wouldn’t be you.”

“So you have thought about it,” Daryl teased. “Blowin’ somebody up, I mean.”

“I’ve thought of a lot of things,” Carol said. 

Her tone was so even that Daryl’s stomach twisted. He heard exactly what she didn’t say. He hummed at her. 

“I get it,” he said. He let silence fall between them. Beside him, Carol eventually yawned. One yawn was followed by another. “We prob’ly gonna drive on like this for a while. Through the night, more’n likely. It’ll be easier to figure out what’s next in the morning. You oughta get some sleep sometime if you can. Get Sophia some sleep, too.”

“You want me to drive tomorrow?” Carol asked.

“Might,” Daryl said. “Right now I’m good. But—you get some sleep. You don’t gotta stay up with me. Would be better if one of us, at least, was fresh.” 

“You’ll wake me up if you need me to take over?” Carol asked.

“Won’t hesitate,” Daryl promised her.

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“The CDC is gone,” Shane said. “You heard Jenner—the government is shut down. There is no more government. What we knew before doesn’t exist anymore. We’re on our own.”

“Washington might still be functioning,” Rick said. 

“While they’re busy letting the CDC just blow up?” Shane asked. 

“Shane’s right,” Daryl said. “CDC is gone. Washington’s gone. This is some lawless fuckin’ land we got here.”

“We’re not the only people left,” Rick said.

“Right about now that’s what the hell I’d be afraid of,” Daryl admitted. “We don’t know who’s left. What we do know is that the police ain’t comin’ to lock nobody up. The government ain’t intervenin’. We’re on our own.”

“We should look for people,” Rick said. “Civilization. The higher populations are going to be in the cities. We’ve got a better chance of finding any kind of safe zones that the government might have established if we head for bigger places.” 

“You mean like Atlanta?” Glenn asked. “That’s where we came from. It’s gone. The government couldn’t hold it against the Walkers. You can bet they couldn’t hold anywhere else against the Walkers either. Columbia, Raleigh—all the big cities will probably look the same.”

“We ought to look for somewhere far away from the cities,” Shane said. “You said it yourself, Rick. The bigger populations are going to be in the big cities. Bigger populations mean higher body counts after catastrophes.”

“And higher body counts these days is bad damn news for every one of us,” Daryl said.

“I have to say that I agree with Shane on this one,” Dale offered. “The cities don’t seem to have much to offer except for Walkers.”

“The rock quarry didn’t have much to offer, either,” Rick said. “If you haven’t forgotten, we lost a lot of people there.” 

“Maybe we don’t go to the city and we don’t just camp in the middle of nowhere,” Daryl said. “Maybe we strike some kind of happy medium.”

“What kind of happy medium did you have in mind?” Rick asked.

“Something we can defend,” Daryl said. “Something where we’re protected by more than strings and bells, but we’re not...you know. Not like in the CDC.”

“Not trapped,” Glenn said. “We’re there on our own terms.”

“That’s a tall order,” Rick said. “When we’ve got no idea where we are or where we’re going exactly.”

“Then we just keep looking,” Dale said. “If we stick to the highway, we should be able to siphon enough gas to keep us going for a while.”

“Maybe we’ll know what we’re looking for when we find it,” Glenn said.

“That’s fine,” Daryl said, “but we can’t live in the cars forever. We can keep moving. Keep travelling. But we’ve gotta stop. Everybody’s gotta stretch their legs. We gotta look for supplies. Eat a hot meal every now and again. We’re gonna need to bathe and breathe. Spend a little time stretchin’ our legs. We ain’t gonna be able to stand it if we just drive forever. People’ll start going stir crazy before you know it.”

“It’s already starting to happen in the RV,” Glenn offered.

“What’s your suggestion, then?” Rick asked.

“Find a decent lookin’ exit,” Daryl said. “Take it. Find somewhere to hold up for a night. Get some supplies, stretch our legs, eat somethin’ decent. Then we move on.”

“That seems like it’ll take a lot of time,” Rick said.

Daryl laughed to himself.

“Where was you tryin’ to get on a deadline?” Daryl asked. “This looks like the end of the line if you ask me.”

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The parking lot of the gas station was relatively clear from cars. The store next to it advertised fireworks and novelties, and the restaurant was bound to at least offer them enough condiments to get them through whatever half-expired food they could scrape up. 

It didn’t offer much in the way of protection, but very little that they’d seen did. 

At the very least, it didn’t seem to be overrun with Walkers. 

“Stay in the truck a minute,” Daryl said. “Be right back.” 

He closed the door to the truck and secured Carol and Sophia inside. Shane, Rick, and T-Dog joined him as they started to look around. It was nearing dusk and the only thing that kept the abandoned gas station from feeling like something out of the movies was that there were no tumbleweeds to go rolling past it in the heart of Georgia.

Daryl walked around the few cars in the parking lot. In two of them, he found the remains of individuals who had opted out of continuing their lives in the chaos that was slowly surrounding them. The other cars were empty.

When T-Dog opened the door of the store, he released three Walkers into the parking lot that had apparently been waiting to get out for a while. Rick raised his gun to shoot them, but Daryl intercepted quickly and put them down with one of his arrows and Shane’s assistance with a knife.

“We start shootin’ out here we’re gonna call up every Walker in Georgia,” Daryl said. “An’ then there goes the idea of sleepin’ outta the car for the night. We gotta put ‘em down, we fix it so we can get ‘em with knives. Blades. Kill ‘em quiet.”

“The place looks pretty abandoned,” Rick said. 

“We know looks can be deceiving,” Shane said. 

“We oughta clear ‘em outta the store first,” Daryl said. “Then we can put everyone to clearin’ the place and collecting supplies while we’re clearin’ out that little eatin’ place there an’ the little store over there. Get what we can. Then we’ll figure out where everybody’s sleepin’ for the night.”

“And tomorrow?” Rick asked.

“We’ll pray there is one,” T-Dog said. “Dale took a look from the roof of the RV. Looks clear as far as he can see. There’s nothing moving out there except a couple of stray Walkers.”

“That’s why we don’t use the guns,” Daryl said. “We don’t need them to find us here.” 

“And tomorrow we move on to do it all again,” Rick said. 

“That’s the plan,” Daryl said. “Unless you got a better one.”

“We need somewhere safe. Stable. Long-term,” Rick said.

“I don’t disagree,” Daryl said. “But the Pop’N Stop ain’t it.”

“So we just keep moving,” T-Dog said. “Tonight the Pop’N Stop. Tomorrow who knows where?”

“How long can we keep this going?” Rick asked.

“Until we find what we’re looking for,” Shane said. 

“Long as we gotta,” Daryl said. “Hell—come too far now to just give up. You do what’cha wanna do. I’ma clear the fuckin’ Pop’N Stop so we can have a decent night’s sleep.”


	17. Chapter 17

AN: Here’s another chapter. 

What season is it? Does anybody know? Does it actually matter? I think I need for it to be getting cold for reasons, but I don’t know if I’ve already established it’s another season and I’m very, very bad at this. I apologize.

I hope you enjoy the chapter, though! Please let me know what you think! 

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Carol steered the truck and Daryl somewhat reclined in his seat with the sleeping infant resting against his chest. He was tired of driving and he’d been more than happy to let Carol handle maneuvering the truck at the high speed of five to ten miles an hour. He knew that, ahead of them, many of the others seemed oddly reluctant to switch of driving with other people in their vehicles, but Carol made her way through the stalled traffic as expertly as Daryl did.

If Carol was driving, that meant Daryl was on duty with Sophia. There wasn’t much room in the vehicle, so that meant that someone would be holding the baby at all times. It didn’t really bother Daryl, though. Sophia had flattered him by taking in an entire jar of her baby food, when he offered it to her, with great satisfaction and, once he’d cleaned her up, she’d made him feel like he was the most comfortable thing in the world by accepting her pacifier and snuggling up to sleep against him like she lacked the ability, entirely, to keep her eyes open. Daryl had taken a nice nap right along with her, and he’d only recently woken. Sophia still slept soundly, though.

“Pretty day,” Daryl commented, keeping his voice low.

Carol hummed at him. 

“It’s nice,” she said. “After the rain.” 

They’d had probably three straight days of clouds and rain at intervals. It had done nothing for anyone except to raise the humidity level and invite mosquitos out from every single corner of the Earth. 

“What’s the gas look like?” Daryl asked.

“Half a tank,” Carol said. 

“We got a while,” Daryl said. 

“We’ll probably all need to look for gas when it’s time to stop for food,” Carol said. “Find somewhere for the night.”

“Yeah—but we made good progress today,” Daryl said. “Steady progress.”

“I just wish we knew where that progress was supposed to take us,” Carol said. “We’re going toward something and we don’t even know what it is.” 

“Like Glenn says,” Daryl said with a yawn, “maybe we’ll know when we get there. You got somethin’ in mind?”

Carol sighed. She pressed her elbow into the window and rested her head against her hand while she drove with the other through a somewhat straight and clear piece of road. 

“No,” she admitted. “Still—it would be nice to know there was a destination. Something safe.”

“You missin’ the CDC,” Daryl said.

“Is that a question?” Carol asked.

“If you want it to be,” Daryl said. “Otherwise I’m just sayin’.”

“Don’t you?” Carol asked.

Daryl swallowed. He knew that his true answer wouldn’t be appropriate. He did miss the fact that they weren’t able to stretch their legs as much as they might like and that they spent most of their time either folded up in a car seat or sharing a small space with too many bodies, but he wasn’t too distraught over the loss of the CDC. A couple of weeks on the road hadn’t been so bad and, really, he’d kept everything he would have really hated to lose when the building had blown up.

“We’ll find somethin’,” was all he offered. He left the rest of it up to Carol’s interpretation. 

She yawned and watched the road in front of her. Daryl doubted that she was really putting too much thought into any of it.

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Daryl held Sophia against Carol’s chest while Carol arranged the wrap so that it was just the way she wanted it. When she’d wrapped and twisted the thing in the most complicated way that Daryl could imagine, she passed him the two ends and he very tightly knotted them as he’d been instructed to do. 

“You good?” He asked as Carol adjusted the thing so that Sophia was secured and mostly covered.

“You’re sure it’s tight?” Carol asked.

“I couldn’t tie it any tighter if I tried,” Daryl said. “I ain’t sure how I’ma work them knots out now.”

“It feels fine,” Carol said.

“She good?” Daryl asked.

“She’s fine,” Carol responded. 

She took a bag from the back of the truck—one of the empty totes—and Daryl passed her the knife that he’d offered her to take the place of a rather flimsy one she’d used to protect herself for a while. One of the places where they’d stopped had been a hunting supplies store. It had been cleared out of bullets—which had seemed to make Rick think it was a completely useless location to loot—but it had sported a while variety of blades and bolts. Daryl had cleaned them out of nearly everything and he’d divided the spoils among the vehicles so that everyone had something silent with which to protect themselves.

Some people had insisted that they weren’t able to use the weapons properly against the Walkers since they had to be so up-close and personal, but at least they had the option to be protected. If they chose to go entirely empty-handed, that choice was theirs.

Carol thanked Daryl for the knife, and she slipped it into the sheath on her belt. 

“I’m looking for a few bigger sized clothes for Sophia, baby food, diapers, and...any requests?” Carol asked.

“Any batteries, cigarettes, or...alcohol,” Daryl said.

Carol laughed to herself.

“Feeling the need to get drunk?” She asked.

“Just ‘cause we got it, don’t mean we gotta drink it all at once, but there ain’t no need in leavin’ it to waste. Water, too. Any meds. Canned food.”

“Same old same,” Carol said. “Most of that’s on my list, but I don’t even bother saying it anymore.” 

Daryl clapped her on the arm and squeezed the upper muscle there as a way of saying that he appreciated her. 

Every time they stopped, they had pretty distinct roles. Daryl talked to Rick and Shane about what they were going to do. He checked to see if there was any kind of plan being made, and he helped make any plan that they could agree upon. When that was out the way, he siphoned enough gas off to get the tank as full as possible. When that was done, he joined in the search for supplies.

Carol went straight to work searching for supplies the moment that they stopped. She spent less time complaining about it, too, than some of the people who felt the job of searching out canned corn was beneath them and, as a result, their truck was the only one, so far, that hadn’t had to go begging supplies from other vehicles at any of their stops. As a matter of fact, they’d supplied whole meals for the group more than once—though nobody was keeping track and, for the most part, Daryl noticed that nobody was thanking them. 

Daryl walked toward the small group of men that was standing around and staring at jammed up cars and each other with equal interest. On his way over there, he squeezed Andrea’s arm as he passed by her. She stood, quiet, staring blankly out at the cars around them, the bag she’d use to gather supplies clutched in her hand. She didn’t say anything to Daryl, but she did offer him some semblance of a smile. He waved at Dale as the old man stood on top of the RV and surveyed the landscape with a pair of binoculars so that he could tell them what it looked like for a decent distance in any direction. Dale waved back at him before he called down to Andrea to be careful and returned to looking for anything they might need to know about.

“That snare’s going to take a couple of days to clear,” T-Dog said as Daryl reached the small cluster of men. “It’s like Dale said, there’s no way around it. Not if we’re taking the RV. We’ll have to move them.”

“If we’re going to be here for days,” Daryl said, “then we’re going to have to find somewhere to stay. We can sleep a night in the cars if we need to, but we’ll need to stretch out some if it’s going to take a while.” 

“We don’t have days,” Rick said.

Daryl walked around the group enough to look at the snare ahead of them. People had been trying to run from everything they feared when the outbreak had first happened. The radio had been sending out confusing signals. It had frantically suggested that everyone should make their way to safe zones, but it had been unclear about where those might be located. The frantic messages on the radio had eventually given over to the repetitive and static filled messages that the stations were off the air. One by one, every station went off the air and the annoying message that broadcasting for that station was done was all that answered back when they searched for some sign of life out there.

Now even that message was gone. There was nothing but radio silence when they tried to reach out beyond their little group.

People had panicked, though, in the earliest days. They’d all taken to the highway in search of the elusive safe places that Daryl knew, now, had never truly existed. Because nobody knew where they were going, they’d rushed in every possible direction. Those that were in the city knew that it wasn’t safe there and they’d scrambled to get out of the cities. Those who were outside the cities imagined that the urban centers would hold the most promise for the future and they’d scrambled to get inside.

Most of them had hardly gotten anywhere because, in places like this, their rush and panic had ended in massive wrecks that had claimed any number of lives. Some people, as evidenced by numerous open car doors, had probably left their cars to try to walk since emergency vehicles weren’t clearing the snares.

One by one, most of the people in the traffic snare had perished.

Some around them were trapped in their cars, turned into Walkers. Others, more than likely, had left the area on foot to meet Walkers in the woods. 

Some, from the looks of the few bones scattered around and the bits of bird-picked decay still drying up on the road, hadn’t made it too far beyond their vehicles before they’d been torn apart—perhaps by someone who had died in an accident. Perhaps by someone they’d been trying to help. Perhaps, even, by their own loved ones. 

“T-Dog’s right,” Daryl said, surveying the snare in front of them. “It’s gonna take at least a couple days. And that’s if we all workin’ an’ not wastin’ time.”

Rick and Shane were both clearly irritated by Daryl’s assessment of the traffic jam. They each had their little twitches with which they showed their extreme irritation. He considered both of them to be a bit theatrical, but he accepted that they were who they were, and he waited for them to twitch and grimace and growl so that they could return to the small bunch.

“We don’t have days,” Rick said.

Daryl laughed to himself.

“On the fuckin’ contrary,” Daryl said. “We got weeks. Years. Whatever the hell is left of our lifetimes. We ain’t doin’ shit but movin’ from one place to another. Waitin’ to figure out where we gonna plant our asses. It’s a real hard thing to sell sayin’ that’cha goin’ nowhere too slow.” 

“We have all the time we need to move cars,” Shane said, “but we can’t sleep out here.”

“There’s enough room in the RV for a night or two,” Glenn said. “We can pile in.”

“If we’re all sleepin’ in the RV,” Daryl said. “I’d just as soon sleep in the truck. We fit in there as good as we fit in the RV. What we oughta do, though, is get set movin’ them cars. Make good use of the daylight. Search what we can. Siphon gas.”

“We need to find water,” Shane said. “We’re almost out everywhere.”

“Find water,” Daryl said. “Find everything. Look around—it’s a fuckin’ goldmine of stuff out here.”

“It’s a graveyard,” Andrea said. She was searching through the trunk of a car near them. “The whole world’s a graveyard now. It feels wrong that we’re—just scavenging. Taking their stuff like vultures.”

“The vultures took what was left of ‘em anyway,” Daryl said. “From the looks of it.”

Andrea eyed him. He frowned to himself. She was still a bit touchy about things. The way they’d been living hadn’t really allowed her to deal with much that she was feeling, either. Daryl wasn’t sure that she ever had any privacy. Dale watched her like a hawk. She didn’t have much opportunity, either, to talk to anyone that wasn’t Dale because of his protectiveness. And because it upset Dale if she said anything that he didn’t like—the graveyard comment, for instance, would practically earn her a forty-five minute tongue lashing on being too negative—she’d almost taken a vow of silence.

Daryl decided to be a bit more delicate if he could. Maybe, just for a little while, the blonde needed that more than she needed anything else. 

He walked over and squeezed the top of her arm again. He wasn’t really sure how else to offer her any sort of comfort. It wasn’t exactly his forte. 

“Listen—they don’t care. They gone. But—I promise you that, if they was here? And if they was worth the salt in their bodies? They woulda wanted us to have a bottle of water an’ some Vienna sausages to keep going.”

Andrea frowned and nodded her head as she dropped a flashlight into her bag.

“I haven’t found any water,” she said. “And—Dale hasn’t said anything, but we’ve been out of water for over a day. I’ll be fine but—I don’t want him going without too long. I gave him the last bottle to drink before I told him it was the last one.” 

Daryl nodded his head.

“We’ll find water here,” he said. “All these cars? Go look in the back of the truck. We still got a case back there. Drink a bottle—but slow in case you gone too long. Take a bottle up to Dale. Make sure anybody else that’s thirsty gets a bottle.” 

Andrea nodded.

“Thanks,” she said.

Daryl smiled to himself. 

He’d only thought, what seemed like moments before, that nobody thanked them. Maybe he needed to simply reset his parameters for determining who made up “nobody” in his mind. 

“Don’t mention it,” he said. “Stay close to Carol. Stay away from the outsides of the snare.”

Andrea nodded her head. She walked off, carrying her bag with the few prizes she’d found, and wandered back in the direction of the truck. It was the same direction of the RV and, just beyond that, it was where Carol was searching other vehicles for goods.

Daryl made his way, in the opposite direction, through the snare and found T-Dog, near the front of it, already working on jimmying the lock on a car door and cussing about the fact that some asshole—abandoning his car in this shit when the world was going to hell—had locked the door and taken the keys with him.

Daryl laughed to himself and went to try the handle on another car they’d need to move. He turned to brag to T-Dog when the door easily swung open, but he didn’t get the chance to say much because Dale called out to them from the top of the RV—his voice escaped in an odd sort of hoarse whisper that carried, but not as far as a shout wood—that they needed to be on guard.

Something was coming. Daryl couldn’t hear what he said.

He scanned the area, stepping into a bit of a clearing in the pile of cars, and then he saw what was coming.

He didn’t know the proper name for a large group of Walkers, but he knew that—no matter what he called them—the sight of them made his blood run cold.

A herd. That was what it felt right to call them. A herd.

And they were coming faster than he might have believed they could.


	18. Chapter 18

AN: Here we are, another chapter here. 

Remember that I’m drastically changing some of the canon events in this story. 

I hope that you enjoy. Please let me know what you think. 

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Daryl hadn’t seen this many Walkers gathered together since Atlanta. Even the group that had descended on the rock quarry hadn’t consisted of so many bodies. They swept through the traffic snare with relative ease given the fact that Walkers weren’t very agile and didn’t seem to have an extremely reliable sense of sight. They moved quickly, too. Daryl had learned that Walkers were slow moving, as long as they were simply ambling about with nothing that they seemed to be set on doing, but they could speed up significantly when they were doing something.

In his gut, of course, it felt strange to think of the dead as having some sort of purpose.

It certainly seemed like these Walkers, though, were on some sort of mission. 

Whether they were simply fixated on the Walkers in front of them, or whether they could actually have some job to do, they were all proceeding forward like they had very little interest in stopping. Daryl was almost certain that if they could remain quiet and out of sight—and smell—of the Walkers, the creatures would actually pass right by them at a fairly quick pace.

It was impossible to see what was happening elsewhere in the camp, though, and it was impossible to know if everyone else was following through with the idea of keeping calm and quiet. The herd was passing through from the direction where Daryl had left Carol and Sophia—and where he’d sent Andrea only moments before— so he could only hope that they were faring well. There was little he could do to help them, though, with thirty Walkers between them.

Daryl and T-Dog might have gotten through the whole thing without a problem, but T-Dog—startled by the Walkers approaching—had fallen over some debris in the road. The fall itself wouldn’t have been too tragic, but he’d landed just right to catch his arm on the open car door behind him. The older model sported metal supports around the window that weren’t as padded and protected as newer model cars and that, compounded with the force with which he fell, meant that Daryl wasn’t sure if he hadn’t managed to cut his arm off with the rusty metal.

He yelled out in pain—something he probably couldn’t avoid with the surprise of it all—but he shut up quickly when Daryl pushed him to the ground and shoved the Walker they’d recently been messing with on top of him. The Walker in question had once been the driver of the offending vehicle, so it was only fitting that he save T-Dog’s life now that his car had very nearly cost him that very life. 

The Walkers, Daryl knew, couldn’t smell them through the scent of other Walkers. They’d walk right past them. They’d learned that well in Atlanta.

Daryl could take cover in a nearby truck, but closing the door would draw the attention of the Walkers. Instead, he pulled the driver lose from that vehicle—put down already—and took a spot on the ground beside T-Dog to wait, under their proverbial cover, until the herd had passed.

It seemed like they were there for hours—holding their breath for the stench and the stress—but Daryl knew that it had hardly been enough minutes to bother counting. 

He stayed on the ground beside T-Dog despite the fact that he was pretty sure that the herd had passed. He wanted to be sure they were really gone. Any amount of movement would draw them back and they would have a harder time finding cover. 

He stayed on the ground despite the fact he could hear that some of his group members weren’t doing a great job of being mindful how much noise they made. Someone was yelling. Multiple people were yelling. 

Daryl and T-Dog were farthest away from the rest of their group members and closest to where the herd was, now that it had passed them all by entirely. Beside him, T-Dog breathed heavy for pain, fear, and blood loss. 

People were yelling.

But Daryl stayed still to be sure that the herd had passed. He only pushed the rotted Walker off of him to get his breath and got to his feet—almost in one sudden movement—when he heard Sophia screaming. Her screaming started suddenly, and it filled the air. Daryl felt like he’d heard it in his mind before now, but it was clear now, and it was ringing out.

He’d left her and Carol near the part of the highway where the herd had entered. He’d left Carol with a knife, but a knife was little help in a large herd of Walkers—especially if she hadn’t been able to reach cover.

Daryl left T-Dog to handle his own issues for the moment and he darted back toward the cluster of his group members. There was a great deal of scrambling about and confusion. Everyone was talking—most of them were yelling—but Daryl got the impression that very few of them were exactly sure who they were yelling at and who was listening to them.

He broke through the crowd and got to Carol first. 

He immediately knew that she was fine. Sophia was fine. There was blood splattered on Carol, but he could tell by her demeanor that it was Walker blood and nothing more. Sophia was safe—almost entirely covered—in her wrap. Daryl touched the back of the little girl’s head as he approached.

“Scared?” He asked.

“We were in a car,” Carol said. “I took cover. As soon as we saw them.”

 

“Good,” Daryl said. “Good—that’s what’cha shoulda done. Done good.”

“I thought it was clear, but when I got out there was a Walker. I killed him, but he scared me. Scared her, I guess.”

“Can you shut that kid up?!” Shane barked.

He came running at Carol, clearly overcome with something he was dealing with, and Daryl stepped between them. He ran at Shane with the same amount of determination that Shane used to run toward Carol.

“She’s a fuckin’ baby!” Daryl barked. “She’s scared!”

“And she’s gonna call every Walker in Georgia down on us!” Shane barked back.

“She’s no damn louder than your mouth!” Daryl responded. “Than everybody else that’s yellin’! What the hell is everybody yellin’ for?!” 

Daryl’s response seemed to surprise Shane enough to calm him down. He actually backed up a few steps and Daryl felt his own body react with a flood of calm.

He looked around. It was clear that he didn’t know, either, why everyone was yelling. The direction he came from had him somewhat away from the real commotion.

The real commotion, when they narrowed it down and focused, was coming from the guardrail. Lori was half leaning over it and screaming into the woods.

And then Daryl saw that Rick was running some distance away and just disappearing into the cover of the wooded area beyond the highway. He was chasing something, and he was running as fast as Daryl imagined him capable of running. 

Shane must have realized, at the same moment that Daryl did, that something wasn’t right. They both ran toward the guardrail and Shane practically shook Lori to get her to calm down enough to blabber out that the reason Rick was running into the woods was because, during all of the chaos, Carl had managed to get chased by some of the Walkers. Rick was going after him now to try to save him from the creatures.

Shane went over the guardrail and Daryl followed behind him. 

Rick was one of the diehard gun fanatics of the group. 

Though Daryl didn’t mind guns, and he certainly thought they had their place, he knew that they were about the dumbest weapon that they could carry at this point. A bullet could only be used once, which made it really of very little use. They had to constantly look for ammunition—which was bound to run out—and they had to carry a great deal to simply be able to use the weapons for a decent amount of time. Blades and arrows had more than one use. Guns, also, were loud. That made them undesirable in situations like these where noise could end up drawing unwanted attention and causing a great deal more trouble than that which was immediately evident. 

The herd of Walkers had come from somewhere, and it would be foolish to believe that they were the only ones around. The woods could be absolutely teeming with Walkers. It would stand to reason, after all, that the people who had left their cars, and who failed to make it to some kind of safety somewhere, had probably fallen very close to the traffic snare. It was very likely that all of them—or at least the ones that hadn’t moved on in herds like the one they’d just witnessed—were wandering aimlessly around the woods and looking for some kind of purpose. 

Rick insisted on carrying a gun. His wife, Lori was one of the few people who argued that a knife would be of little use to her because she wasn’t sure she felt confident getting close to the snapping and snarling Walkers. She seemed to believe that she’d always have someone there to protect her. 

She hadn’t been wrong, because Shane and Rick were always practically falling over each other to protect her, but it didn’t mean that there wouldn’t come a time when she’d wish that she’d been able to do something for herself.

A knife might have helped her, after all. A knife certainly would have helped Rick. 

When they caught up to him, Rick was doing his best to fight off two Walkers with a rock and his good intentions. The gun hanging on his hip was useless to him if he didn’t want to call more Walkers to come in their direction. Shane was armed with a gun and a knife while Daryl was carrying only a knife.

Daryl wished for his crossbow, but in the scramble of things he’d left it on the highway. He pulled his knife, instead, and rushed forward with Shane. Without speaking, they understood what they needed to do. Each of them grabbed a Walker and, pushing it to the ground with the force of their body weight and momentum, they both put down the creature underneath them almost immediately.

Rick barely breathed out a thanks to either of them before stumbling off. Before they could get to their feet, he reappeared with Carl—teary eyed and clutching his father around the waist.

Daryl brushed himself off, but there wasn’t too much worry about whether he was clean or not. He was smeared with T-Dog’s blood, Walker mess of indescribable origin, mud, and just about anything else that he could think of that was disgusting. 

“This is why the hell I said a blade in the hand of everyone old enough to hold it,” Daryl said. 

He felt like that was all he had to say. He didn’t care to say anything else, really. He simply turned and started back toward the highway.

“We can’t stay here,” Rick called out to him.

“We got no choice,” Daryl said. “Not ‘til the road is clear.”

“We can go back,” Rick said. “Look for another way around.”

“Or we can go forward,” Daryl said. “Makes more sense to me.”

“We know what’s in front of us,” Rick said. “That herd.”

Daryl stopped walking. He turned back and looked at Rick. He was standing beside Shane with his arm around his son. Carl seemed to have calmed now, though he was still clutching his father’s waist.

“There’s a herd behind us, too,” Daryl said. “Or you done forgot what Atlanta looked like? They everywhere now, Rick. Forward or backward—the Walkers are there. I’ma see what we can do about T. He’s hurt. See who else needs somethin’ up there. Pass out the knives that everybody shoulda took before. And then we gonna get back to work clearin’ the damn snare.”

“We’ll never get it cleared before dark,” Rick said.

Daryl laughed to himself.

“We weren’t gonna get it cleared before dark before the herd,” Daryl said.

“If we’re not going to turn back, we’ve got to find somewhere to stay the night,” Rick said.

Daryl hummed and shrugged his shoulders. 

“Sounds like everybody knows what they doin’, then. I’m goin’ to clear the snare. You goin’ to find somewhere to stay the night. You comin’ back to the highway first? Get a knife? Or you want me just to tell Lori you found your boy?”


	19. Chapter 19

AN: Here we are, another chapter here. 

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

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The division of labor was fairly simple.

There were several things that needed to be done and more than enough bodies to handle the jobs. Rick and Shane went in search of some sort of shelter that they could use for at least a night. They took Carl with them to keep him from being underfoot and, mostly, because he had begged to tag along with them. Glenn had gone with them, as well, to help make sure that they didn’t get in too much trouble since they would be away from the safety that the openness of the highway offered them. 

T-Dog’s arm was wrapped and he was set to keep watch with Dale in case more Walkers got too close to where they were working. On the roof of the RV, he would be easier to protect than anywhere on the ground. 

Daryl accepted Andrea’s assistance in moving cars out of the way since she seemed anxious to put just a little distance between herself and Dale. When the Walkers had struck before, Andrea had gotten trapped in a bad situation with one of the Walkers. She’d pulled through, unscathed, but it had scared her and Dale both. Dale dealt with his concern by lecturing, and Andrea would rather push cars than listen to a lecture raining down on her from atop the RV. 

Carol and Lori were in charge of searching cars for absolutely anything that might prove useful—and Daryl was praying that they hit some kind of drug dealer’s jackpot soon because he feared the antibiotics that his brother had left in his bike’s saddle bag would only go so far and might not be enough to keep the gruesome cut on T-Dog’s arm from growing disgustingly infected.

They were at the mercy of chance, though, because there was very little that they could really do except hope that pieces of their lives fell together at this point. They could work toward goals, but there was little to guarantee that they would reach them.

One goal they were slowly reaching, however, was clearing the highway. 

“Let it go...let it go...now!” Daryl called out to Andrea as the car they were pushing started to pick up speed as it rolled through the area that they’d already cleared. Andrea was bad about holding on too long and it had already caused her to bust her ass at least twice while Daryl had been looking. She pulled back this time and let the car go so that it could run at whatever speed it wanted until it crashed into another car they’d already moved.

It was slow going, but they were making clear progress. Another day of steady work and they could have enough room to work the RV through the snare. If they were able to get some of the others involved, they may even get it done sooner. 

Andrea looked wildly pleased whenever another car was rolled out of the way. Daryl could tell that the manual labor invigorated her. 

It also dehydrated her and took a toll on her body.

“That’s good,” Daryl said. “Real good. Let’s take a break. Get some water in you.”

“I’m fine,” Andrea said.

“You ‘bout passed out earlier,” Daryl said. “I saw you get that look on your face. Prob’ly saw sparkles an’ shit.”

He pulled a bottle of water from the pile they were keeping on the back of one of the trucks they wouldn’t move for a while and offered it in her direction before he took a bottle for himself. She didn’t argue. She simply took the water, cracked open the lid, and drank it far too fast.

“Easy,” Daryl said. “Gonna make yourself sick. You go another fuckin’ two days without drinkin’ water again an’ I’ma personally kick your ass.”

“You’ll have to get in line,” Andrea said. “What was I supposed to do, Daryl? Dale’s older. He needs it—and Glenn’s practically a kid. We were almost out and every time we stop to look for stuff—let’s just say that some people are favored over others.”

Daryl’s stomach twisted. He knew exactly what she was talking about. He and Carol stayed somewhat outside of the group because it irritated him how grabby some hands could be when they came upon something useful. Rick was going to make sure his family didn’t go without—and Daryl respected that—but Shane was also going to make sure that Rick’s family didn’t go without. Both of them had slightly overpowering personalities and, put next to some, it meant that others just sort of slipped between the cracks.

“Not no more,” Daryl offered. “You need food? Water? Speak up. It don’t do nobody no good if you die like some kinda martyr to try to keep Dale or Glenn goin’ longer. Rather we didn’t lose nobody to somethin’ like thirst or starvation.” 

“Thanks,” Andrea said with a laugh. “I feel the love.” 

She drank down the rest of her water and Daryl offered her another bottle without hesitation. He knew from speaking to Glenn that it might have been longer than Andrea reported since he’d seen her take a drink. She was good at rationing their food and water, and she was good at looking after everyone in the RV, but it seemed that she was also good at distracting them from what she was and wasn’t doing for herself.

“I don’t want to drink it all,” Andrea said. “We need this in the RV. Dale. Glenn. I think T’s starting to get a fever.” 

Daryl held the bottle she was doing her best to refuse in his hand. 

Carol could find a needle in a haystack when it came to searching cars. She was careful, she was thorough, and she’d learned to squirrel away what she needed to take care of herself and her daughter because she knew what it was like to walk through the world without another soul looking out for her. Daryl knew they had a case of water in the back of the truck and another, broken down with the bottles stuck around the cab of the truck—and that didn’t even include their share of what she’d found today.

“Lemme ask you somethin’,” Daryl said. “And if you answer it—I’ll give you enough water to get everybody to the next stop without thirstin’ to death.” 

Andrea frowned at him.

“I’m not sure I want to answer a question with stakes that high,” Andrea said.

Daryl laughed to himself.

“I’ma ask it anyway,” Daryl said. 

“OK, then,” Andrea said. 

“You still wanna die? Like you did back at the CDC? Like you got—got Dale scared you do? If I turn my back on you, you gonna—opt out like some of these assholes we been clearin’ out the cars that blowed they damn brains out?” 

“That’s more than one question,” Andrea said.

“I reckon you know what the hell I’m askin’,” Daryl responded.

“Are you asking if I’m going to commit suicide?” Andrea asked.

“I’m askin’ if you wanna live,” Daryl said.

Andrea sighed.

“I don’t know if I want to live or—if it’s just a habit,” Andrea said. 

“Stupid fuckin’ answer,” Daryl said. He put the bottle of water in her hand. “Drink this.”

Andrea laughed to herself. She screwed the lid off the water bottle. 

“I would like to think there’s something more out there,” Andrea said. “A future? Something worth living for. I guess—I have to keep living if I’m going to find out if there is.” 

“What is it you want outta that future?” Daryl asked. He lit a cigarette for himself.

“The same things anybody wants, I guess,” Andrea said. “Someone to care for. Someone who cares for me. Someone who—won’t leave. A family of my own.” She raised her eyebrows at Daryl. “Why, what do you want?” 

“Like you said,” Daryl said. “Same damn thing I guess everybody wants. Drink that water. Then I’ll walk with ya into the woods over there to take a piss ‘cause I know you gonna have to. I’ma go check on everybody. Don’t go near the woods ‘til I get back.”

Daryl quickly searched out Carol and Lori. The two women were making a massive pile of supplies—sorting it into categories as they went—and he couldn’t fault them at all for their efforts. It was clear to him that Carol, with Sophia strapped to her back now, was working a bit more sincerely than Lori, but Lori was pulling her weight. From the looks of what they were finding, too, the delay might be worth it simply for all that they’d be able to garner from the cars. The only concern, really, that Daryl had at this point was whether or not the whole thing would prove too bad for T-Dog.

Daryl circled around to the back of the RV and started up the ladder. As he came over the top, he could see T-Dog sitting in Dale’s lawn chair while Dale sat on a cooler. 

“How’s everything up here?” Daryl asked.

Dale nodded his head in T-Dog’s direction, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. It was evident that T-Dog wasn’t feeling well. 

“He swallow down a couple of them pills?” 

“Two,” Dale said. “I didn’t want to overdo it.”

“Give it time,” Daryl said. “T—how you feelin’ man?” 

“Some bullshit,” T-Dog offered, but he never added anything to it, and he never explained. Daryl didn’t ask for an explanation, either. T-Dog likely had a fever. At the very least, he’d washed down some pills with some whiskey for the pain and a little water for the dehydration. It didn’t matter if he muttered pure nonsense for the next longest.

“What’s it lookin’ like out there?” Daryl asked.

“No Walkers as far as I can see,” Dale said. “Nothing else for that matter.”

“No sign of Rick an’ them?” Daryl asked.

“I’m going to be honest,” Dale said, “I don’t think there’s anything nearby. I’m not seeing a store. A church. Nothing. No signs of civilization for miles. I think if we don’t find something, we’re going to have to backtrack for the night at least.”

“I hate leavin’ everything here on the highway,” Daryl said. “If it comes down to it, y’all can take somethin’ an’ go back up the road to that last exit. Find somethin’ for the night. I’ll stay here in the RV an’ make sure we don’t wake up tomorrow with next to nothin’ left.”

“We haven’t seen any other people,” Dale said.

“The night we left everything in the open would be the night we seen ‘em,” Daryl offered.

The sound of the gunshot rang through the air around them. It clearly came from the wooded area—an expanse that they couldn’t see beyond from the top of the RV—but there was little indication about where it came from exactly.

As soon as it rang out, there was a scramble of bodies on the ground below. Andrea, Lori, and Carol all three ran to the RV to yell up at Daryl, Dale, and T-Dog as though they would have any idea from where the sound issued. Daryl walked to the edge of the RV and peered down at the three faces looking up at him.

Sophia, too, had decided that she should cry about the noise—very likely bothered because it startled Carol. Carol was doing her best to soothe her daughter with one hand reached over her shoudler while she blocked the sun with other to peer up at Daryl. 

“We don’t know what it was,” Daryl said. “Can’t see anything. But—it prob’ly weren’t nothin’. Takin’ down a Walker or somethin’.” 

“Rick wouldn’t fire a gun to take down a Walker,” Lori called up. “Not after that herd. Not after what happened.”

Daryl understood that she was uneasy. He was uneasy too, but there was nothing he could do about it. The best he could do, honestly, was try to keep everyone calm and collected. 

“Coulda got too close. Last minute thing. Maybe it weren’t a Walker. Maybe it weren’t even our people. Some other people in the area, I bet,” Daryl offered.

“Should we be worried about other people?” Andrea asked.

“Just stay close together,” Daryl said. “All of ya.”

“Daryl—I’ve got to pee,” Andrea offered. “I can go in the RV.”

Daryl laughed to himself.

“I’ll walk all of you to the woods,” he said. “Just to the edge. We’ll stay together. Rick an’ them’ll be back ‘fore you know it. You can bet on it.”

Daryl didn’t say anything else to Dale. He gave him a look that he hoped communicated a good deal, and he got a nod from the old man that said he understood that Daryl’s current goal was simply to keep everyone calm for a little while until they had some idea of what was going on and how they should proceed. 

Daryl did walk the women to the edge of the woods, just as he said he would, and he waited with his back to them as they all did their business and chattered about their worries and concerns. He didn’t try to soothe them too much because he didn’t want to lie to any of them and he knew no more about the situation than they did. 

When they were done, he brought all three of them down to the area where he was moving cars and set Lori and Carol to clearing out cars at that end of the traffic snare while he and Andrea continued to push vehicles out of the way that they were able to free. 

The work helped to keep everyone distracted from their concern over the earlier gunshot, and no other gunshots echoed out to follow it. The work helped to keep them from noticing that the sun was sinking lower in the sky and they still didn’t have anywhere better to spend the night than the RV and, on top of that, their reconnaissance team had yet to return. 

Nothing happened at all to disturb them from their labors until Daryl heard the yelling—and he wasn’t really sure if he heard Glenn or Dale first. 

All of them rushed back toward the RV, and they reached it in time to hear Dale telling them that Glenn was coming, alone, and to see Glenn clearing the guardrail.

“We gotta go!” He called out. “Everybody else is already gone. I just came back to tell you where to go! There was a hunter and...then there was a woman on a horse! I can’t explain! We gotta go to a farm a few miles from here. We can get there from the last mile marker. Carl’s been shot! They’re going to get help!” 

The first thing that Daryl did was grab Lori to make sure that the woman didn’t hit the ground from the impact of the news. The second thing he did was start to organize it so that Glenn, Lori, and T-Dog could leave as soon as possible.


	20. Chapter 20

AN: Here’s another chapter! I’m glad to see that you’re all excited we’re at the farm. For those of you reading “Daddy,” I’m enjoying your excitement on both stories concerning the farm. LOL

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

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Daryl drove the truck with Carol and Sophia beside him. Most of their supplies had fit in the back of it. The rest of the supplies had fit in the back of the SUV that they found already somewhat packed and still easy to get running. They decided to take it, preferring it over their other vehicles for storage capacity. Anything that had been leftover, and that they didn’t want to leave behind on the highway, Dale packed into the RV before the small caravan of three vehicles followed Glenn’s somewhat spotty directions to the farmhouse.

The place was decently remote, so it wasn’t too difficult to find the house despite the lacking directions that they’d been given. Daryl assumed that it was generators that were keeping the lights on inside the farmhouse. The lights, in contrast with such a dark word around them, made the structure stand out like a beacon calling them all home. 

As soon as they pulled up to the house after creeping their way down the long driveway, Daryl was sure they were in the right place. The Cherokee—which Glenn had taken with Lori and T-Dog—was parked there. In addition, Daryl barely had time to open the truck door to explore their new location before a young woman stepped out onto the porch with Glenn practically on her heels.

“Did you lock the gate on your way in?” She demanded.

Daryl laughed to himself. 

“Nice to meet you, too,” he called back at her.

“Did you lock the gate on your way in?” She repeated.

“Yeah,” Daryl said. “We locked it. We ain’t stupid.”

“You can park your cars in that field over there,” she said, gesturing off in the direction of some sprawling land. “There are wells out there for the cattle. They have hand pumps so you’ll have plenty of water. You can use the one closest to the house. Don’t use the one we’ve got blocked off. You can set up whatever you’ve got in the field. It’s getting cold at night, so it’s fine to build a fire, but you better watch it. We don’t want it spreading.”

“Got it,” Daryl offered. Then he walked behind the truck to tell his comrades—just in case they didn’t get the memo—what the woman had said. Andrea was driving the SUV and had her window down. She’d caught everything, but Dale needed to be filled in. As soon as Daryl had spread the word, they started moving vehicles—even going back to move the Cherokee.

They decided to forego the fire for the time being, but they went ahead and set up their camp. Dale would stay in his RV, and Andrea was likely to stay with him, but many of them would like the privacy of having a tent. They unpacked their tents and, under Andrea’s urging, they unpacked tents for those who were, apparently, in the house. Daryl didn’t know if Rick and company would need the tents, but they would be expecting to have them set up if they did need them, so they might as well avoid conflict and go ahead with putting them up. 

Daryl saw Carol when she settled, some fair distance away from the other tents, in the field to start setting up her own tent. He finished helping Andrea with the tent that she was erecting, and then Daryl took his own tent and trotted off in the direction of where Carol had gone.

“What the hell you doin’ way out here?” He asked.

“Sophia,” Carol said.

Daryl dropped his own tent and helped her with hers since she was clearly struggling a little with the framing rods.

“She asked to be out here?” Daryl asked with a laugh. Sophia, happily facing outward as she rode strapped to her mother’s chest for the time being, laughed as well. He pretended that she understood his joke, though he was sure she was just amused by the movements of her mother as she struggled with the tent poles. “You like that, huh?” He teased the baby as she brushed near his face while he worked. 

“She cries,” Carol said.

“It’s a thing babies do sometimes,” Daryl said. “Or so I been told. She don’t do it too much. All things considered.”

“I don’t want her keeping the whole group awake,” Carol said. “Or worse—waking up—whoever owns this place. This place looks pretty safe.”

“I’d say it looks damn safe,” Daryl said. “Good fences an’ they ain’t a Walker in sight. I ain’t seen one since we left the highway. They don’t even come lookin’ at the lights in the windows.”

“Exactly,” Carol said. “This is the kind of place that we could survive for a little while.”

“We ain’t been inside to find out what’s goin’ on,” Daryl said. “But Rick an’ Lori ain’t runnin’ around outta their minds, so I’ma guess that Carl ain’t dead. That means they got some kinda help here. If he’s been shot...if it’s all really true, then I’ma guess we might be here for a little while.”

“But if Sophia drives everyone crazy,” Carol said, “we might be asked to leave. If I’m the reason that we’re asked to leave a safe place, Daryl? If Sophia’s the reason that we’re asked to leave? Nobody is ever going to let us forget that.”

“If whoever lives here asks us to leave ‘cause a baby was cryin’? Then who the hell wants to be around ‘em anyway?” Daryl said. “But fine. If you think it’s better out here, I’ll set my tent up out here, too.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Carol said. “You don’t have to sleep all the way out here.”

“Woulda done it anyway,” Daryl said. “Hate bein’ crowded up under everybody. Damn near can’t breathe. Might as well cram into the RV if you gonna do all that.”

Carol smiled at him. 

“You want me to—help you get your tent up?” She asked.

“Only decent thing to do,” Daryl said. “Long as I just about got yours up.”

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Carol walked behind Daryl as they mounted the porch steps and made their way into the farmhouse. Everyone else was already inside. 

It was a lovely farmhouse. It felt warm and cozy and, if it hadn’t been for the fear of how people, who were absolute strangers to them, might react to their presence, Carol would have found the place to be one of those houses that felt immediately like home.

Sophia rode on her chest, wrapped up so that she could see the world around her for a bit, and she kicked her legs and bounced a little every now and again. She had a strong interest in Daryl, so she’d grabbed for him once or twice while they’d been setting up the tents and had been thrilled when he’d taken the time to make growling noises at her—which apparently she found endearing—and to grab back at the fingers that she stretched out toward him. Now that she was directly behind him, she seemed content to ride with Carol, wherever they might be going, as long as she could watch the movements of her beloved new companion.

Daryl stepped through the door first and held it open for Carol to step inside. As soon as she was through the door, he let it close and stepped in front of her again like he was going to lead the way to whatever they might encounter in the farmhouse.

“Come on in,” a woman said, appearing from just at the end of the hallway they were entering. Carol assumed she must be the woman who owned the house. “We’ve got hot water if you want a shower, but there’s a bit of a line at the moment. I’m afraid we don’t have too much room and—we’re pretty busy so there won’t be much entertaining.”

“We’ll take the shower,” Daryl said. “We don’t need nothin’ else.” 

“I’m Patricia,” the woman offered. She put a hand out in Daryl’s direction and he held his hands up to show them to her.

“Dirty,” he said. “I mean—if you still wanna...but I thought you oughta know.”

“There’s a bathroom just through there,” Patricia said. “You could wash your hands if you want. While you’re waiting for a shower. You’re—Daryl?” 

Daryl cocked an eyebrow at the woman.

“Your friends told me you were outside,” Patricia said. “They said you were the one who had the antibiotics—the ones that I gave your friend?” 

“Belonged to my brother,” Daryl said. “But I guess he’s dead. Gone, anyway. So I don’t guess he cares.”

“They’ll go a long way toward helping your friend,” Patricia said. “Maybe even saving his life. Antibiotics is something that we haven’t come across too easily. The medical facilities tend to be the ones that are the most—overrun.”

“Yeah,” Daryl said.

“They’ll help the boy, too,” Patricia said. 

“If there’s any leftover,” Daryl said. “I give ‘em to T.”

Patricia looked at Carol, but Carol didn’t say anything to her while she still considered her engaged in conversation with Daryl.

He didn’t let the conversation continue, though, because he cleared his throat and showed his hands to Patricia again. 

“I’ma go to the bathroom,” he said, gesturing toward the little bathroom that she’d indicated. He looked at Carol like she might not have been able to hear him, even though she was close enough to him that Sophia had been pushing her feet against his back while they’d been standing there. “I’ma—“

“Go to the bathroom,” Carol supplied. 

“Yeah,” Daryl said. He nodded his head and did exactly what he said he would do, so Carol accepted that it was here turn to get to know at least one of the residents of the house. Far beyond the hallway, though, she could hear sounds throughout the house that let her know that they weren’t alone. Everyone they’d brought was there—and there were others who lived in the house. It sounded like people were engaged in a great number of activities and conversations on both floors.

“Carol,” Carol said. “And—I’ll admit that my hands aren’t too clean either. But I’d be happy to shake your hand if you want to take the chance.”

The woman smiled warmly at her. She extended her hand and Carol took it and shook it. 

“We’ve got plenty of soap,” the woman offered. “And—with the farm life, you learn not to be too afraid of a little dirt. Your baby is beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Carol said. 

“I almost didn’t expect to see babies again,” Patricia said. Carol smiled at her. Maybe babies were a rarity in this world. It certainly felt like people, in general, were scarce these days—though the woman standing in front of her certainly opened Carol’s eyes to the possibility that there were more people out there than they realized. “How old is she?” 

“I don’t know,” Carol admitted. “She was born just as all this started. I lost track of time.”

“We have too,” Patricia admitted. “Seven or eight months at least.”

Carol smiled.

“That sounds about right,” she agreed. 

“What’s her name?” 

“Sophia,” Carol said. 

“Does she eat solid food?” Patricia asked.

“She loves food,” Carol said. “She’s liked everything I’ve found to give her.”

“We’ve got some food in the kitchen,” Patricia said. “Come on—let’s see if we can’t find something she’ll eat.”

Carol thanked the woman and followed her through the house, sure that Daryl would find them when he emerged from the bathroom and began an exploration of the space. Carol looked around, but at first glance she could only find Dale from their group as she passed through the living room—and he was sitting in a chair with his hat on his knee, seemingly staring off at nothing.

“Are you OK, Dale?” Carol asked.

He looked at her like he didn’t expect her to be there and then he gave her a signature smile to say he was pleased with her acknowledgement of his presence. He nodded his head, his quiet contemplation broken.

“Andrea’s showering,” he said, as though that answered Carol’s question. Maybe it did, of course. Maybe he was OK because Andrea was showering—and Dale had turned most of his attention, these days, to caring for Andrea as though she were somewhere around Sophia’s age.

Andrea seemed to hate it, for the most part, but she didn’t have the heart to tell Dale that, so she tolerated his smothering because he seemed to get something from caring for her.

“We’re going to find Sophia some food,” Carol said. “Are you hungry?” 

“In a minute,” Dale offered. “Have you seen Lori?” 

Carol shook her head. Dale hummed.

“She’s in the room with her family,” Patricia said, waving Carol onward toward the kitchen. “Hershel’s in there. He’s doing what he can to save the boy. They’re talking about what can be done.”

“Is he going to be OK?” Carol asked.

Patricia gestured toward the table and Carol worked Sophia out of her wrap and rested the little girl on her knees. Patricia came over, bringing a bowl of something and a spoon. She put it in front of Carol.

“Applesauce,” she said. “We made it to use up some of the apples before they go bad. They’re coming off the trees faster than we can eat them.” Carol thanked her and tasted the applesauce. It tasted fine. It was a little tart, but Carol assumed that was simply from the type of apples that they’d used. She offered some to Sophia and her daughter accepted it. Her immediate open mouth after she swallowed was a clear sign that she wasn’t going to turn her nose up at what was being offered. “I sewed up your friend’s arm. He’s going to be fine. Especially thanks to those antibiotics. But—Hershel doesn’t have that much supplies here. He’s not sure he has what he needs for the boy. My husband—Otis—he’s the one who shot the boy. It was an accident. Otis—he would never hurt a fly. Not on purpose. He was hunting for us and—he never saw the boy. The bullet went through the deer that he shot. Otis is with them right now. I think they’re talking about trying to find some supplies.”

Carol swallowed and nodded her head.

“You mean—looking for some tomorrow?” Carol asked.

“I mean—maybe as soon as possible,” Patricia responded. “The boy might not make it to see the morning if Hershel can’t get what he needs. They’re discussing it now. We’ll know more soon.” She stood up from the seat she’d briefly taken at the table. “Feed her as much as she’d like. There’s always more than we can eat. Everyone is starting to get sick of applesauce. I’m going to check on things, but—I’ll let you know when the shower’s open.”

“Thank you,” Carol offered.

Patricia didn’t say anything else until she’d crossed the kitchen and was practically stepping out into the hallway beyond. 

“I’ll make sure your husband knows where you are,” Patricia offered.

Carol’s stomach tightened, but she didn’t call back in Patricia’s direction to tell her that she’d made a mistake—to do so would be to practically yell down at the hall at this point.

And Carol was sure that Daryl, when Patricia found him, would set the record straight. She only hoped that he wasn’t too mad at the presumption that the woman had made. 

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AN: I’ll put in the disclaimer that I don’t know the farmhouse layout exactly, so take it for what it is, please. Suspension of disbelief is always appreciated.


	21. Chapter 21

AN: Here we are, another chapter here. 

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

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Daryl had actually never told the woman that he wasn’t Carol’s husband and he wasn’t Sophia’s father. He realized, probably an hour after she said it, that he’d never actually told her that what she believed wasn’t true.

He was sitting in an empty bedroom, holding a clean and well-fed Sophia against his chest while she hummed to him and considered falling asleep while her mother showered, and it struck him that he’d never actually told the woman—Patricia—that she was mistaken.

She’d caught him off-guard. She’d come quickly, finding him, and she’d thrust towels in his direction. They were big, fluffy, yellow towels that didn’t seem suiting to the kind of life that they’d been living. Daryl had tried to refuse the towels—or at least to tell her that he didn’t need a stack that was quite so large—when she’d spoken.

“This should be enough for all of you. Your wife is feeding the baby applesauce in the kitchen.”

Daryl never managed to refuse the towels. He never managed to set the record straight. He’d simply stood there, crowded in the hallway where Patricia had found him, and held the towels in his hands like a chump. She’d smiled at him, worked her way past him in the narrow hallway, and fluttered off to some other task before he’d even had the sense to close his mouth entirely and put one foot in front of the other.

He hadn’t even told Carol what she’d said.

Because when he found Carol—in the kitchen where Patricia said that she’d be with the baby—he was still holding the fluffy yellow towels and she looked at him with her eyes as wide as he’d ever seen them before, and there had been something there—something behind her eyes that he couldn’t identify. It had looked a little like fear. And his focus had suddenly shifted entirely. Was she OK? Had something happened? He’d stammered out the questions and her shoulders had sagged forward. She’d pasted on a smile before she asked him the same questions back as her only answer.

He was so relieved by her palpable relief—which he didn’t fully understand, but he’d never fully understood women— that he didn’t dare to upset her by letting her know that the blonde woman might be under the impression that they were married, and she might be under the impression that Sophia was his kid, and he might not have had the presence of mind to let her know that she was wrong.

The next thing he knew, Carol had been practically pushing him into the vacant shower upstairs so that he could help her with Sophia—something he’d volunteered to do without hesitation. She’d nursed Sophia while he’d showered, and then she washed the baby and dressed her in something clean and comfortable. Daryl had found the empty room off the bathroom where he could sit and hold the baby while Carol took her own shower.

And sitting down, in the quiet, with the little girl humming to him as she worked her way toward sleep, it returned to Daryl that he’d never fully denied his claim to either Carol or Sophia when Patricia had spoken to him. He’d never told Carol, either, what Patricia believed, and now he wasn’t sure how to go about doing either one.

When Carol came into the room, it snatched Daryl out of his daydream. She brought with her the scent of shampoo and soap. She stuffed her dirty clothes into the bag that already held his clothes and Sophia’s clothes—the bag from which she would do the laundry if she were given the opportunity to do so. She was wearing a floral shirt that she had either found somewhere or been given because it was at least two sizes too large and hung awkwardly on her thin frame. She was wearing sweatpants, too, that sagged a little around her waist and reminded Daryl that she’d lost some weight since the last time he’d seen her wear them. The ensemble was almost comical when it was paired with a pair of boots that went just above her ankles—spoils of some of the highways scavenging.

Daryl snorted.

“What’s funny?” Carol asked, straightening up from fussing with the laundry bag and running her fingers through her barely-there hair. It was growing, but it was only slightly longer than when he’d first met her and she’d had practically no hair at all.

“You look ridiculous,” he offered.

Carol looked down at her outfit like she hadn’t seen it before and hadn’t been responsible for dressing herself in the bathroom.

“It’s all I have that’s clean,” Carol said. “And—I’m not exactly hitting the runway. I’ve only got to make it all the way to the tent.” She laughed to herself and started toward the bed where Daryl was sitting. “Besides, I never knew you were such a fashion guru.”

“I’m not,” Daryl said with a laugh. “Just—givin’ you hell, I guess.” He hesitated a moment. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Carol said. “If that’s your idea of giving me hell, I’ll take it. I can handle it. Is she asleep?” 

“Almost,” Daryl said. “Will be by the time we get to the tents if—you don’t mind me carryin’ her.”

Carol smiled at him.

“Making the switch might wake her up,” Carol said. “I think it might be best. If you don’t mind, of course. I’ll carry the bag.”

“Carol,” Daryl said, forcing out the word as she turned to walk back toward the bag so that they could leave the privacy of the empty bedroom. She turned quickly. Daryl felt his stomach churn. To help steady his nerves, he patted Sophia’s back, uncertain as to whether or not she was actually awake. “That woman—Patricia?” Carol’s face fell into concern. “She thought you and me…were married.”

“I know,” Carol said. 

“I’m sorry,” Daryl said. “I didn’t tell her she was wrong. I didn’t—think about it in time.”

Carol laughed to herself.

“I didn’t tell her she was wrong,” Carol said. “I guess—I didn’t think about it in time either. I guess—I’m sorry, too.”

Daryl’s stomach churned. They’d all grazed their meals out of their rations while they’d been waiting on turns in the shower. Daryl’s meal had consisted mostly of beans and some of the applesauce that they seemed to have in abundance around this house. Now he was feeling like that general combination wasn’t the best idea he’d ever had. 

Or, perhaps, the churning feeling in his gut wasn’t the beans and applesauce at all. Perhaps it was the simple realization that he wasn’t sorry that Patricia thought he was married to Carol. It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world that could ever happen to a man like Daryl—not even close. 

Maybe he was sorry because she wasn’t right.

Maybe he was sorry because it wasn’t the kind of thing that did happen to man like him. Hearing her say it and realizing how untrue it was had brought that sharply to Daryl’s attention.

Maybe that was why his stomach ached.

He soothed himself with tenderly rubbing the baby’s back and, thankfully, Sophia didn’t complain about his affections or try to shy away from them. 

“We can tell her the truth tomorrow,” Daryl offered softly. Carol frowned. She might not want to sleep on it, but downstairs they were getting ready to send Patricia’s husband—Otis—off with Shane to look for supplies and Daryl figured she had bigger things she might be worried about than whether or not she’d mistaken the relationship between Carol and Daryl. “In the mornin’,” he added, trying not to make the wait seem too dramatic and drawn out.

Carol nodded her head. She pasted on a smile that Daryl didn’t entirely believe.

“Whenever you want,” she said. “It isn’t hurting anything for tonight. Are you—ready?” Daryl nodded and stood up. “You’re sure you—you don’t want me to take her?” 

“Got her,” Daryl said. “Can carry the bag, too.”

“I’ve got it,” Carol assured him.

They didn’t speak as they left the bedroom, made their way through the house, and exited the front door. There was really nothing to say and they had spent enough time around each other, at this point, that it wasn’t necessary to speak to anticipate what they would do next. 

Daryl eased the door closed behind him and followed Carol down the porch steps with Sophia still sleeping against him. Whereas the house had been the hub of activity earlier, the yard was the busiest place at the moment. In the closest “shanty-town” of tents and the RV, there were a few lanterns burning. Daryl could see shadows moving about. People were starting to settle in for the night and decide where they intended to sleep.

In the driveway, there was a quiet discussion that, despite its volume, sounded perhaps a bit heated between Rick and Shane. Patricia—the woman that had stirred Daryl’s gut up so much—was quietly talking to her husband.

There was an old man that Daryl hadn’t formally met that was engaged in a conversation with Lori. 

Neither Daryl nor Carol interrupted any of the goings-on around them. It wasn’t their place. Instead, they made their way across the yard toward the dark area where their tents were set up. Daryl followed behind Carol. From either the pocket of her sweatpants or the bag of dirty clothes, she produced one of the small flashlights that she’d found—something that fit on a keychain—and she guided them across the ground with that. At her tent, she crawled inside and lit her camping lantern before she crawled back out again. Without saying anything to Daryl, she crawled into his tent and did the same. 

Carol smiled at him when she straightened up and stood in front of him, the light of the lanterns shining out both tents barely illuminated their space.

“I coulda lit my own,” Daryl offered.

“You shouldn’t have to go into a dark tent,” Carol said. 

“You want me to—put her down? In there?” Daryl asked.

Carol reached her arms out.

“She’s been asleep for a while,” Carol said. “At least since we were upstairs. I think she’ll make the transfer OK.”

Daryl quickly brushed his face against the top of the baby’s head before he passed her over to Carol. Sophia didn’t wake in the exchange or, if she did, she didn’t stir. Carol hugged her daughter against her body and kissed the same head that Daryl had only recently nuzzled. 

From having held the baby for so long, Daryl’s arms felt a little tired, and that tiredness made them feel especially empty at the moment. 

Carol smiled at him. 

“You’ll have some privacy tonight,” Carol said. 

Daryl glanced back toward the two tents. They were side-by-side on the ground, but two cloth walls would stand between them, along with a short distance of dirt. It was the most that had separated them since they’d left the rock quarry.

“Yeah,” Daryl said. “Privacy. You too.”

“I’ll try to keep her quiet,” Carol said.

“Don’t bother me,” Daryl offered. “You need anything…”

Carol’s smile renewed.

“You too,” Carol said. 

Daryl nodded his thanks and then, got into his tent because he didn’t know what else to say or how to end the conversation. Carol, too, got into her tent. Daryl sat with his feet outside his and lit a cigarette. Next to him, he could see Carol’s silhouette as she arranged Sophia in the little bed that she’d made her out of a sleeping bag. He could see her getting herself ready. He watched her as she moved around and finally settled down with what he assumed was a book.

Across the yard, a vehicle left. It rolled down the driveway. Someone walked through the field—it must have been Andrea because Daryl heard Dale’s voice warning the person to be careful and he wouldn’t have worried so much over anybody else.

It didn’t take long and everyone outside that wouldn’t stay there disappeared into the farmhouse where lights would probably burn all night to keep some kind of vigil over Carl—whose condition Daryl really didn’t know much about other than he was in need of supplies for the old man, who Daryl hadn’t met in earnest yet, to have a chance at saving him. 

Slowly the shanty town got still and quiet and dark. 

Eventually Carol’s lamp was blown out and she and Sophia got still beside him. 

Daryl sat for a while, alone in the stillness of the night, and smoked. 

He liked to pretend that he enjoyed being alone. He liked to pretend that he didn’t need anyone. The truth was, though, that he really didn’t care for being alone. Being alone reminded him of that. He preferred to have someone there. Carol thought he wanted his privacy—or maybe she was simply craving her own because she was starting to tire of his constant presence—but the truth of the matter was that he’d enjoyed sharing nearly every waking moment, since they’d left the rock quarry, with her and Sophia.

Now, crawling into his tent, Daryl realized that he hadn’t felt quite this alone since the moment that he’d realized Merle was gone from the roof, and that he was probably never coming back, leaving Daryl utterly and completely alone in the world.

Settling into his sleeping bag, blowing out the lamp, and looking toward the darkness where he knew her tent sat, Daryl wished for less distance and canvas between them. If she hadn’t needed her privacy, he would have told her that it was simply safer to share a tent.

He would have told her anything, probably, just to close that distance.

But he left her alone to sleep in peace and privacy, instead, and he closed his eyes to hope for pleasant dreams and a morning that was quick to break.


	22. Chapter 22

AN: Here we are, another chapter here. 

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

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Something just didn’t sit right with Daryl about Shane’s return to the farm. He came, sure enough, with the supplies that he’d been sent to get, but he also came alone. He hadn’t left alone, though, and something about his story weighed uncomfortably on Daryl.

The place had been overrun with Walkers—and that much they’d known before they’d even left the farm. While they’d been at the place, Shane reported that Otis—Patricia’s husband and the man who accidentally shot Carl—had acted bravely and heroically. His greatest concern had been to supply Carl with what he needed. He wanted the child to be saved above all else. From Shane’s story, it appeared that Otis had sacrificed himself so that Shane—more able-bodied and better equipped to get the supplies back—could reach Carl in time. He had been entirely selfless and had thought nothing of his own safety. 

Those who knew him, though, said that everything that Shane had said sounded like Otis. He had been, apparently, a very selfless man who cared a great deal for others. He had also been deeply sorry for shooting Carl.

According to Shane’s story, they’d gotten overtaken by Walkers and Shane had managed to get away, but Otis hadn’t. Those things happened nearly every day. Everything in the story was practically commonplace these days, but something in the way Shane told the story just didn’t sit right with Daryl—even if he couldn’t put his finger on what that was exactly.

The situation with Carl was apparently critical, so there was no memorial for Otis. That would come later, clearly, when there wasn’t a life at stake. Patricia abandoned any thought of mourning her husband to try to avoid losing even one more life. Rick, Lori, and Shane stuck close by the house and kept vigil over the surgery that was being performed by the old man—Hershel Greene—who owned the farm and was offering his services. The rest of them kept busy with any task they could pick up for a moment.

To try and keep them from all-too-quickly wearing out their welcome, Carol had prepared breakfast for the farmer’s family and those who were working to save Carl’s life so that they could grab something when they had the opportunity. Then she’d dedicated herself, as she often did, to washing the clothes for their group. 

Daryl had offered to help her in any way he could, and he’d gone to draw water from the well they’d been offered the use of as needed. They’d quickly discovered that, somehow, the cover on that well had been broken and a Walker had fallen in some time in the past. It was bloated and stuck in the well. Gathering up everyone available to them, they’d managed to pull the Walker out of the well, but not without tearing the damned thing to pieces and ruining the water supply that the well provided. Luckily there were other wells on the property, and they’d been offered use of another one even though it required carrying the water longer distances to get back to their makeshift camp.

Daryl spent most of his day hauling water, Carol spent most of hers cooking and cleaning, and Glenn spent most of his helping those that lived on the farm to gather the fruits and vegetables that were ripe and would spoil if left too long. He also followed them around to assist in feeding and watering the animals. Andrea had helped Carol with washing up dishes and cleaning the farmhouse kitchen after everyone had eaten, but then she’d disappeared to keep watch for Walkers while Dale kept watch over her. T-Dog jumped around from spot to spot, doing his best to help whoever might need him with whatever task they were completing.

They were all more than capable of staying busy for a day, especially when they really had relatively few worries about Walkers, so they were able to fully involve themselves in what they were doing. Carol’s concern was having the group ready to leave if they had to leave in a moment’s notice, but Daryl also knew that she was hoping their stay there could be long-term. 

He only actually discussed such a thing with her, though, when she met him outside their tents after she finished with washing up the dishes inside the farmhouse after dinner. 

Daryl had taken Sophia to make Carol’s life a little easier and to free her up to move around, and he’d walked a few laps around the farmhouse with the baby tied to his chest in her wrap. He’d only returned to the tents when Sophia was truly asleep and his feet were starting to ache from the pacing.

As Carol crossed the farmyard in the failing light of the coming night, Daryl could see she was exhausted just by how she carried herself. She’d worn herself into the dirt more than anyone had—doing her best to take care of the group and, at the same time, to take care of those who lived on the farm so that they might consider extending their hospitality longer. 

“I’m sorry I’m so late,” Carol called out as she got closer.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Daryl responded. He spoke only loudly enough for her to hear, but not enough that he would risk waking Sophia.

“You shouldn’t have been stuck with her all evening,” Carol said.

Daryl laughed to himself and patted the back of the baby. He’d had her turned so that she could see where they were going when she was simply riding along while he walked boring circles around the farmhouse, but once she’d started to settle and hum at him—a sure sign that she was considering sleep—he’d turned her around to face him because she seemed to like to sleep flat against his chest more than in any other position.

“That what’cha call it? I thought she was keepin’ me company. Let her crawl some on the blanket in my tent. Then we went for a walk. She’s asleep, now.”

“She’ll wake up hungry,” Carol said.

“Prob’ly,” Daryl agreed as Carol closed the distance between them and stood in front of where he sat in a folding chair that he’d snagged from Dale. “But there weren’t nothin’ I could do about that.”

“You didn’t have to watch her,” Carol said. “I hate to—keep bothering you like that.”

“What was I doin’ with my time, exactly?” Daryl asked with a laugh. “It ain’t like there’s much more in the way of entertainment around here than there was at the CDC. Besides—you had your hands full.”

“Well—thank you,” Carol offered.

“Don’t want your thanks,” Daryl said. “What’s happenin’ in there?” 

“The surgery was successful,” Carol said. “Carl’s OK. He’s going to need to recover. Lori said that Hershel believes he’ll need at least two weeks.” 

“So we stayin’?” Daryl asked.

“The man wants us off his land,” Carol said. “But—he doesn’t quite have the heart to throw us back out there until Carl’s doing better. If we left right now, Carl wouldn’t make it. He’d likely catch infection and die. All of this would have been wasted.”

“That woman’s husband woulda died for nothin’,” Daryl said. “Woulda been better, at that rate, if he’da just killed Carl when he shot him.” 

“Hershel’s going to let us stay until Carl’s back on his feet.”

“And then we’re just right back out there doin’ what we were,” Daryl said. It wasn’t really a question as much as it was an observation, but Carol hummed and nodded her head in agreement. 

“I think—Rick wants to try to talk him into letting us stay. There’s a lot of land. If we were to work together, we could even expand the fences and build some structures. We could work together for farming and raising animals.”

“You talkin’ about buildin’ somethin’ sustainable,” Daryl said. “Our own little Eden in the middle of all this shit.”

“It’s safe out here,” Carol said. “We haven’t seen Walkers since we got here. There’s clean water, there’s food—we know the ground’s fertile.”

“But you don’t think the old man’ll bite,” Daryl said. “Won’t let us stay.”

“What reason does he have to?” Carol asked. “We’re just strangers to him. This is all his. He doesn’t have to share any of it.” 

“Strength in numbers,” Daryl said. 

“Strength against what? If it’s safe…”

“But it might not always be safe,” Daryl said. “You know good as I do that what’s safe today is hell tomorrow.” 

“He might let us stay if we’re not too much trouble. If we pull our weight and help out and—follow his rules.”

“His rules?” Daryl asked.

“He’s said that he doesn’t want guns on his property,” Carol said. “And he doesn’t want people thinking they can take over. This is his land and he’s letting us stay here.”

“Fair enough,” Daryl said. “I got a gun, but I got no need to use it. Content to leave it in the truck if that makes him happy. I can still get some deer to put on his table an’ ours with the bow. It’s better anyway.”

“I think he makes an exception for hunting,” Carol said. “He doesn’t like that Rick and Shane are trying to insist on carrying their guns.”

“Stupid,” Daryl said. “Them damn guns gonna get us into trouble anyway. You can’t go poppin’ off shots any time you want when these nasty ass creatures hunt by sound as much as anything else.”

“If we follow the rules, we might get invited to stay. If they don’t—I’m afraid we’ll be asked to leave,” Carol said.

Daryl sighed. 

“Don’t worry about it right now,” Daryl said. “A couple weeks is a long time to rest. It’ll give us time to—think about where we go if we do gotta move on.”

“And when winter comes?” Carol asked.

Daryl nodded his head.

“Here or there, we’ll have somethin’ to keep our asses covered by then,” Daryl said. 

Carol made a sound like a light laugh. She stepped forward and reached for Sophia. Daryl carefully stood up and untangled the baby from her wrap, hugging her to his body once when she started to wake. He gently passed her over to Carol and, immediately, he felt a lump rising in his throat. 

It was getting dark. It was time for bed. Around them, everyone was starting to settle in for the night. Carol even said as much.

“It’s getting late,” she breathed out. The words caught in Daryl’s chest and tugged at his heart.

Nights could be unbearably long.

“Gettin’ late,” he echoed with what he could find of his voice. “You prob’ly tired.”

“I’m sure you are, too,” Carol said. 

Thankfully she didn’t immediately dive for her tent. Thankfully she lingered for at least a moment longer. She didn’t leave him alone just yet. 

“Safe out here,” Daryl said. “Seems that way at least. With the fences. No Walkers.” 

“None that we’ve seen,” Carol echoed.

“Still—if you was to get nervous at night,” Daryl said. “I mean—scared. Just ‘cause of—of what’cha know is out there. What’s happened before…”

“Sometimes I get scared just because I think—what if the fences don’t hold? What if—something we never expect happens? Like at the CDC?” 

Daryl hummed. His stomach was doing odd things. They didn’t make sense. There was no reason for him to feel so nervous. There was no need to feel like his gut was twisting in half and his mouth was going dry.

But he felt that way. Carol had a way of making him feel that way by simply being near him.

“If you get scared like that,” Daryl said, “you won’t bother me if you was to wake me. I don’t sleep much anyway.”

“I hardly sleep,” Carol offered. 

“Slept good at the CDC,” Daryl said. “You didn’t sleep too bad in the truck.”

“It’s different here,” Carol said. “You slept pretty well both of those places too, as I recall.”

Daryl held his breath for a beat.

“What’s different?” Daryl asked. “The—walls? Bein’ closed in?” 

“Being close to someone?” Carol asked. Her answer slammed into him and his heart responded to the impact by slamming around in his ribcage. He was pretty sure it had pulled loose from wherever it was supposed to be attached and had gone rogue. 

“You don’t like bein’ alone?” Daryl asked.

The corner of Carol’s mouth turned up just slightly before she turned her head away from him to brush her lips over the top of Sophia’s head. The baby had barely noticed the transfer, and she was happy with sleeping in her mother’s arms.

“I guess—I don’t,” Carol said. 

“You didn’t say nothin’,” Daryl said.

Carol rolled her eyes back in his direction, but she continued to lightly nuzzle her daughter’s head for a second.

“It’s not exactly the kind of thing that—you want to tell someone, is it? It’s hard to tell someone that…you wish you weren’t alone,” Carol said.

Daryl nodded.

“I see that,” Daryl said. “But—long as it’s out there. I mean—if you don’t sleep good. You—need to sleep.”

“Are you—saying you’d be willing to…share my tent, Daryl?” Carol asked.

“If it’d help,” Daryl said. 

Carol smiled at him.

“I think it would help,” she said. “It might be crowded.”

“Not no more’n the truck,” Daryl offered. “I mean—if it ain’t too crowded for you. Yours is—it’s bigger’n mine.”

“I wouldn’t want to put you out,” Carol said. 

“Won’t put me out,” Daryl said. 

“I don’t want you to feel like—I’m taking away all your privacy,” Carol said. 

“Get enough of it,” Daryl said. “During the day. When we’re busy. Unless—you’re worried about your privacy.”

Carol smiled. She shook her head.

“I’ve never been that worried about my privacy,” she admitted. “I prefer—good company.”

Daryl nodded his head. 

“Settled, then,” he said.

“It’s settled,” Carol echoed.

“If you sure,” Daryl said.

“I’m sure,” Carol said. “If you’re sure.”

“Don’t want’cha to be—scared an’ all. Alone. An’ you—need your sleep,” Daryl said. 

Carol nodded. 

“I do,” she said. “You want to—get your sleeping bag? While I get Sophia settled?”

“Yeah,” Daryl said. “Yeah—I’ma just smoke…get my sleepin’ bag. You get Sophia settled. And—I’ma be right there.”

“Good,” Carol said. She smiled at him one more time, cuddled Sophia a little tighter against her, and went toward her tent. Daryl stood there, in place. He lit a cigarette and watched her go. His hands were shaking, but it was dark enough that nobody would have noticed if they’d been there to see. He watched her shadow as she moved around in the tent with the lamp lit. She settled Sophia and made room for Daryl.

He hadn’t had to ask to share her tent and her company. She’d asked him, really. 

He’d just been lucky that she’d happened to need exactly what he needed. He’d been lucky that she’d wanted exactly what he’d wanted.

And his gut told him that he was lucky that she seemed to know exactly what he needed, and she seemed too know that he needed not to have to ask her.

“Daryl—are you coming?” Carol asked, her voice barely making its way out from behind the canvas walls of her tent. 

Daryl smiled to himself. He took a long draw off his cigarette and walked over to his own tent. He reached in and, without putting the effort into really crawling into it, he grabbed the bottom of his sleeping bag. It came when he tugged on it, dragging his pillow and poncho and everything else he’d stuffed in there with it. He roughly rolled it all up to keep it from dragging in the dirt and tucked the whole roll under his arm.

He finished the cigarette, ground it into the ground to put out the flame, and cast one last glance around to make sure that all was still and quiet.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m on my way.”


	23. Chapter 23

AN: Here we are, another chapter here. 

I’m putting this announcement on everything I’m writing for now. I should let you all know that in a week, I’ll be starting a class for work that will occupy almost every waking moment of my time for two weeks. Please pass it on if anyone should wonder where I’ve gone during that time. I won’t have run away; I’ll simply be working.

I hope that you enjoy the chapter! Let me know what you think!

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Daryl hated to call the old man cantankerous, especially since he considered it the kind of antiquated word that nobody younger than his grandparents would have used in everyday conversation, but it was truly the only word that could describe the farmer. He was riled up that they were on his land and, even though they weren’t hurting anything, he would have preferred if they simply weren’t there. He didn’t hide his feelings too well, either. Of course, Daryl doubted that he was really trying.

The man was a farmer. He was a widower with two daughters—one of which was barely more than a child. Somehow, at the turn, he’d become responsible for the young boyfriend of that youngest daughter, and he’d taken on Patricia and her husband Otis—who had worked there on the farm. With Otis gone, and Patricia a widow, it was evident that Hershel considered her his responsibility. Really, it was clear that he felt responsible for anyone and everyone that fell under his care. Maybe that was one of the reasons that he didn’t like a whole group of people moving in right up under his nose. Maybe he feared that he would let his guard down, grow attached, and then gain more responsibility than he could handle.

There were other things, though, that probably added to the man’s distaste of having them all there. 

Carl was healing, but he needed to remain in the old man’s—Hershel Greene’s—home to avoid infection. It was under Hershel’s insistence that he stayed there. Lori, Carl’s mother, stayed with him. But it appeared that Rick also insisted on space there, and Shane hardly ever left either.

Maybe Hershel was feeling that they were closing in on him.

In addition, Shane defied Hershel’s request that they not wear guns. Everyone had put away their weapons—allowed to keep them, but asked to keep them hidden—but Shane had kept his on his own person, insisting that Hershel didn’t know what the world was like. He was too sheltered to understand what was out there.

Shane had a duty to protect the group. 

That’s what he said, at least, but Daryl knew that Shane wasn’t protecting the group. Shane had relatively little interest in the group at all. From where Daryl was standing, Shane had done his best to beg a frustration-calming piece of pussy off of Andrea—even though Daryl didn’t know if she’d given it to him or not, though she was surely in need of some frustration relief from Dale breathing down her neck constantly—but he wasn’t even interested in protecting the blonde. The only people Shane really cared about were Lori and Carl—and Rick didn’t seem to even notice that the man spent as much time around Rick’s wife as Rick did.

Hershel let Shane keep his gun, mostly because there was nothing he could do to force him to get rid of it, but Daryl was almost positive that he was frustrated by the fact that his desires meant nothing on his own land. He was being muscled out of that which belonged, rightfully, only to him.

Then there was the food.

Surely one of the greatest comforts in Hershel’s life had been building something to sustain his family. It was clear to Daryl that he was one of those who had prided himself, during his long life, over the fact that he could care for his family if the world went to hell in a handbasket. He had built this farm with his hands—that much he’d told Daryl in a moment of frustration—and he’d seen it through some times when he’d almost been sure that he’d lose it forever. He’d always kept in mind the possibility that, someday, something might happen where they were forced—like people in pockets of time throughout history—to care for themselves without the help of the government or any outside force. He’d built for that time. He’d prepared for that time. And now it was upon them.

And now that such a time was upon them, and now that Hershel Greene could fully prove that he was able and ready to provide for his family without the assistance of any outside force, there descended upon his farm a group of “others” who wanted to eat from his gardens and orchards and storehouses. 

It was Carol that offered over what they had to add to whatever Hershel might be willing to share with them. It was Glenn that offered to organize runs to nearby places in search of food to supplement what they had. It was Daryl who offered to traipse off into the woods and fill the smokehouse on the property with meat that overflowed from that which he put, fresh, on the table. It was Dale, T-Dog, and Andrea that offered to pick vegetables and fruit, and to help gather eggs and feed livestock. It was Carol and Andrea that offered their hands at canning food with Patricia and Hershel’s daughters.

And it was Lori who made the greatest demands and Rick and Shane that supported her demands. 

Whether there was something drifting in on the wind from Atlanta and the destroyed CDC, or whether there was something airborne from the decay that surrounded them in a world littered with mobile corpses, or whether there was simply something that was coming in with the slow crawl toward a change in seasons, they were all starting to show different signs of some kind of communal cold.

There were some complaints of scratchy throats, scattered headaches, and even some muscle aches and light wheezing. There were sneezes, coughs, runny noses, and eyes that watered. Hershel was aware of these illnesses—he walked around with a handkerchief to wipe his own nose almost constantly—but there was nothing that he could do for what ailed anyone. As far as he and Patricia could tell, it was a harmless cold. Nobody had any fever. There was nothing they could nail down. There was no way to treat something that seemed, for all intents and purposes, like a simple virus or something that needed to run its course.

And there wasn’t really much to treat it with if it turned out to be more than that. The pharmacies were picked clean and the mobile unit where Shane had snagged supplies was too overrun and, honestly, pretty well picked over. 

The sniffles and cold symptoms had been running through the entire group for a few days. During those few days, Lori had essentially demanded that the best of the food go to Carl. He was healing, of course, and needed the nutrition. Really, Daryl didn’t think that anyone would fault her the concern she had over her son’s well-being. Neither would they deny the child what he needed to get better. 

Rather, what he was sure was starting to grate on everyone’s nerves—Hershel Greene’s included—was the fact that she seemed to believe that whatever Carl got, she should get by extension as his mother and caretaker and, beyond that, there was very little mention of what anyone else might need.

Nobody else made demands because, whether or not they said anything about it to Hershel Greene or even to each other, they all worried that Lori’s demands might be what finally drove the old man over the edge. They didn’t want him to demand that they all had to pack up and leave the safety of his fences for the risk of the open road—especially not with so many of them silently starting to worry if the start of this cold or virus, or whatever it was that ailed them, was only the beginning of something much worse.

Daryl kept his head down and his mouth closed, for the most part, and helped out where he could as the days ticked on. Like everyone else, he quietly hoped that the winds would change and Hershel Greene, instead of hoping for the day that he could wave them off and close the gate behind them, would welcome them to stay and build something more on his land that would help them all to be comfortable.

For the time being, Daryl was learning to simply be comfortable and content in a tent with Carol and Sophia.

And, honestly, it wasn’t that bad.

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“Daryl…Daryl…”

As he opened his eyes, he wasn’t sure how many times he’d heard his name circling around his brain like a whisper in a dream.

His mouth was dry. It was hot and painfully dry, but that was likely owing to the coughing that had been plaguing him throughout the day. The dry cough had started with Lori, and she’d seemed to pass it to Andrea, but now it was spreading. It went right along with everything else that was practically a mystery to all of them.

“Daryl…”

It was dark, but slowly he was reminded that they were in a tent that smelled faintly of campfire smoke and a little like sweat and the unending occupancy for which it was never made. He shifted around and sat up, snatched into his reality by the realization that it was Carol who was repeating his name.

“What? What’s wrong?” Daryl asked. Immediately he fumbled around and found his lighter. He found the camping lantern and lit it. Carol was sitting on her knees with Sophia in her arms. The little girl looked like a rag doll with her body draped over her mother.

Carol was clearly crying. Daryl could see the tears glittering as the light caught them. Immediately, his heart felt like it stopped beating in his chest and his breathing caught.

“I don’t know,” Carol said. “I don’t know what’s wrong…”

“Soph?” Daryl asked, scrambling around and practically crawling into Carol’s lap to be close to her and the baby.

“It was just the cough before bed,” Carol said. “The cough and the—the crying.”

The crying. Daryl had damn near come to blows with Shane over the crying. Carol had been cleaning up the Greene’s kitchen after she’d served Hershel dessert and hot coffee to try to remind him that having her there was a blessing. Daryl had been holding Sophia out on the porch while Shane had been loitering just outside the window where Lori and Carl held down a bed under Rick’s supervision.

Sophia had been crying because she didn’t feel well, or dinner sat heavy on her stomach, or because she was tired and needed her mother’s milk and a good rocking. Whatever her reason for crying, she couldn’t communicate it to Daryl and his presence wasn’t enough to soothe her. He’d sat on the step and rocked her as he rocked his body and smoked a cigarette, but he knew he wasn’t going to be able to end her suffering—only Carol would be able to do that, and she couldn’t do that until she’d finished trying to soothe over the daily sting brought on by Rick and his.

Shane had had the balls to say something about Sophia’s crying. He’d had the balls to say that the baby’s crying was going to be what ended them all. It carried, he said. It would call Walkers down on them. When the Walkers finally came, it would be Sophia’s screams that did them in.

It would be Sophia’s screams that led the old man to run them off the farm because he was tired of the never-ending headache she caused.

If anyone had been there to hold the miserable baby, and if he’d been sure that Hershel Greene wouldn’t have kicked them off the farm for fighting, Daryl would have knocked Shane Walsh’s teeth down his throat right there on Hershel Greene’s front porch.

Instead, he only picked the baby up and told Shane that it was going to be Lori’s bawling that got them all thrown outside the fences again. It was going to be Lori’s whining and bellyaching that cost them everything they had.

And then he’d spit a few choice words at Shane in response to those that Shane spat at him to question his parentage.

He’d taken Sophia to the tent so that she could cry in peace until Carol had come to soothe her and get her to sleep. 

“What’s wrong with her?” Daryl asked.

“Can you hear that?” Carol asked. She sucked back snot. Daryl didn’t know if it was caused by her tears or the fact that the strand of whatever sickness they were all nursing that had settled in on her was causing her nose to run.

“What is it?” Daryl asked.

“Her chest,” Carol said. “Her breathing…she was coughing and then she just stopped. She stopped doing anything at all. She got—still.”

“Fell asleep?” 

“Maybe but…Daryl…”

Daryl heard her voice shake. His own chest seized again at the desperate way in which she said his name. He hated to hear so much pain behind his name and to know that there was nothing he could do to soothe it. 

He leaned his head against the baby’s chest as she lay limp in her mother’s arms. 

“Whistlin’ an’ wheezin’,” Daryl said. “Don’t sound right. The cough was dry. I was around Andrea earlier when she was damned near givin’ up her left lung. It was a dry cough. This is wet. There’s fluid. Sounds like infection.” 

“Is she breathing?” Carol asked.

“She’s breathin’,” Daryl assured her.

Carol’s whole body was shaking. Daryl cold see it now. She was trembling like she was freezing to death, but Daryl knew she wasn’t cold. He touched his hand to Sophia’s head. He moved it around to find the warm skin on the back of her neck. His fingers brushed Carol’s arm. She sucked back against her own tears once more and did her best to swallow it all down.

“Is she breathing enough, Daryl?” Carol asked. 

Daryl understood what she was saying. The baby sounded like she was struggling to breathe. She wasn’t waking to protest her suffering, though. Instead, she was simply limp in Carol’s arms, struggling to breathe.

“She’s hot,” Daryl said. “Got fever. Got infection.”

A choking cry escaped Carol, but she controlled it almost immediately. Her face was wet with tears and snot and there was nothing she could do to stop that now.

“What do I do?” Carol asked. 

Daryl nearly cried out in pain at his body’s response to the desperate sound of her voice and the realization that she felt like this was something she had to handle on her own. He nodded at her. He reached his arms out and took Sophia, and Carol allowed him to make the transfer, although she did so a little reluctantly.

Daryl worried, though, that her knees might not hold out for the walk to the farmhouse and he didn’t want her to go down and drop the baby.

“I’ma tell you what we gonna do,” Daryl said. “We gonna—take her to that farmhouse. We gonna—take her to Hershel Greene. We gonna tell him she’s sick an’ we gonna do what we gotta do to get her well. That’s what we gonna do. But she’s gonna need you, ‘cause she don’t find no comfort in me. Not like she finds in you. Can you do that? Can we do that?” 

Carol looked at him, looked at her daughter’s slack body in his arms, and nodded her head vigorously. 

“Come on then,” Daryl said. “Let’s go.”


	24. Chapter 24

AN: Here we go, another chapter here. 

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

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“This will bring the fever down some,” Hershel offered as he squeezed medicine into Sophia’s mouth with a medicine dropper. 

Sophia rested on the bed, clearly exhausted to the point of barely being able to find the strength to move, and she let out bit of a cry and balled herself up over the thought of swallowing down the medication. She did accept it, though. She coughed and Carol pulled her into her where she reclined on the bed near her. 

“It will help most of the symptoms,” Hershel said. “It should—ease the cough. Help her sleep. You can nurse her if that would help her feel a bit more soothed.” 

“Will she need more?” Carol asked, watching as he put away the bottle that he’d produced from his pocket.

“In a few hours,” Hershel said. “You can let me know if she gets any worse. The most you can do right now is simply keep her comfortable. You can—spend the night in here. If you want. She might sleep better.”

Carol thanked him for his help and she picked Sophia up. Daryl didn’t need to watch to know that she would nurse the baby as the old man had suggested. 

Daryl hadn’t missed the expressions that had danced across the old man’s features, though, and he hadn’t missed the look that he’d given Patricia. Carol might have missed it, but that was probably only owing the fact that her role as Sophia’s mother made her want to see things a certain way. 

Daryl followed Hershel when he left the room and he stopped him just as soon as the bedroom door was closed behind him and they’d taken a few steps down the hallway in the direction of the living room. Patricia stopped, too, even though Daryl didn’t reach out to catch her shoulder. A few feet away, bunched together in the living room, they had an audience of most of their group members and the occupants of the farmhouse. The moving around in the early morning hours that Carol and Daryl had caused on the way to the farmhouse had roused everyone that slept in ever-present fear of Walkers, and once they knew what was really going on, they’d all traipsed inside.

Daryl assumed that some were there out of concern for Carol or Sophia. Others, he was sure, were only there because they were concerned that the common cold they were all nursing in some capacity might become something more, and they were waiting on some kind of verdict to be handed over by Hershel.

“What’d you give her?” Daryl asked.

“I beg your pardon?” Hershel asked.

“What’d you give the baby?” Daryl asked. “What’d you give Soph?”

He saw the expression again as it crossed the old man’s features. Then, suddenly, Hershel Greene just looked old and tired. He looked like an old man that had been woken up in the earliest hours of the morning to deal with something that was too heavy for him to carry.

“I gave her something to help the symptoms,” Hershel said. “I—didn’t want to say anything in front of her mother. I’m sorry…”

“You sorry you didn’t say anything?” Daryl asked. “Or—you sorry that she’s sick? What exactly you sorry for?” 

“I’m sorry that—I don’t know if there’s anything to be done,” Hershel said. “It’s infection. In her lungs, it sounds like. It’ll have to run its course.”

“What you give her—it’ll help,” Daryl said.

“It will help alleviate some of the symptoms,” Hershel said. “And it’ll help keep her—it’ll keep her more comfortable, but it won’t heal the infection. It’s not antibiotic.”

Daryl felt, suddenly, like he might need something for his own lungs. He felt like they might be closing up. His throat, too, was tighter than it had been in a while. He didn’t believe, though, that it was really owing too much to the cold.

“You sayin’ that—you just gonna let her die or somethin’?” Daryl asked. “You—weren’t gonna tell her Ma. Just—let her die? An’ you weren’t gonna do nothin’?”

“Surely there’s something you can do,” Andrea said, appearing from the living area. Daryl glanced in that direction and he could see faces—all of them—and he ignored that they were a little blurrier than he remembered them being in the past. 

“I’m sorry,” Hershel repeated. “It isn’t that I don’t want to do anything, but she needs medicine. She needs more than I have to offer her. She needs antibiotics.” 

Daryl forced down a few swallows to try to open up his throat. He swiped at his face, though he was a little ashamed that his sleeve came away dirty and damp from the movement. 

“Then give her the fuckin’ antibiotics,” Daryl said. “I give her a whole bottle.” He pointed at Patricia. “A big damn bottle. Merle used to get that shit in bulk. Three month supply an’ all. T-Dog—he didn’t hardly touch ‘em. Didn’t have no trouble with that arm once it was cleaned up. Took a week tops outta that bottle. Give her what’s left. Give her what she needs.”

“That’s the problem,” Hershel said. “There isn’t any left.”

“How the hell can there not be any left?” Daryl spat.

“I understand you’re upset, son,” Hershel said. “But I won’t have that kind of language in my home, and I won’t have you addressing me like that.”

Daryl sucked in a breath and purposefully held it. He counted to ten, released it, sucked in another breath, and did the same thing again. Once, when he’d gotten into some trouble with Merle, they’d both been court mandated into a bullshit anger management class. They had completed the mandatory hours and left the class with relatively little that they could take away. One thing that Daryl had taken away, though, was the holding his breath and counting when he was ready to explode but really wanted to keep his feelings under wraps.

“There’s gotta be more left,” Daryl said. “T-Dog ain’t took all them antibiotics. He couldn’t have.” 

“After the boy was shot,” Hershel said, “we gave him the remaining antibiotics to fight away infection in the wound.”

“So they all gone,” Daryl said, somewhat taking in the words that Hershel Greene was offering him.

“I’m sorry,” Hershel said. “I never foresaw that there would be so much demand for the antibiotics. I’m not sure how I could have extended them, but I certainly would have tried if I’d known…”

“We’ll just get more,” Daryl said. 

“The town’s been picked clean,” Hershel said. “The neighboring town as well. We couldn’t find any even before you came with Carl.”

“Then we go further out,” Daryl said. “You ain’t gonna tell me that the whole state of Georgia is lackin’ antibiotics. You ain’t gonna tell me that the last ones to be had was the ones that Merle left behind an’ now they gone too.” 

“There’s a town that’s some distance away from here,” Hershel said. “It’s called Marion. If you were to take the highway, it would take you probably an hour to get there. It’s a little bit closer if you could go a straight shot northeast from here.”

“Great,” Daryl said. “Then we’ll get in the truck an’ we’ll go get the drugs.”

“The only reason we haven’t been there is because it’s cut off,” Maggie said. She was the oldest of the farmer’s daughters and she was standing there in a nightgown much like the rest of the people that seemed to be watching Daryl like he was the most exciting form of entertainment they’d seen in a long time. 

“What do you mean, cut off?” Rick asked, interjecting for the moment. Daryl didn’t mind the interruption because Rick was only asking the same question that he would ask.

“The highway,” Maggie said. “The place where you got stopped? That snare? It’s nothing compared to what there is further north. The whole thing, just about, is blocked off by cars.”

“The roads are impassable,” Hershel said. “They have been since just after people started to show up with the sickness.” 

“So we don’t take the highway,” Daryl said. “So we take the backroads an’ we go to this town. Get what we need. They got a hospital?” 

“The back roads are pretty well blocked off, too. Even if you could get to it, the town was too small for a hospital,” Maggie said. “There was a clinic. It might have something. A couple of doctor’s offices and a pharmacy.” 

“There was a small veterinarian school,” Hershel said. “And several vets for the surrounding farms. Any survivors would have picked over the clinics and the doctor’s offices. They wouldn’t touch the veterinarian school and offices. They don’t realize that the medication does the same thing. They wouldn’t know how to dose a person.”

“But you would?” Daryl asked.

Hershel nodded his head. Daryl nodded in response. 

The faces looking at back at him were furrowed with concern. Many of them were probably worried about themselves. Andrea’s cough was growing worse by the minute, and even staring at him she launched into a coughing fit that brought Dale to stand behind her like he might catch her if she didn’t bring in enough breath to keep her on her feet.

“Can we walk?” Daryl asked.

“It would be a long walk,” Hershel said with a laugh.

“Didn’t ask that,” Daryl said. “Asked if it was possible. There anything that would stop us? Impede us gettin’ there on foot when vehicles couldn’t stop us?”

“It wouldn’t be safe,” Shane said. 

“Didn’t ask that, neither,” Daryl pointed out.

“There should be no barriers that I know about,” Hershel said. “Physical or geological. But the walk would be long and difficult.”

“There would be too many Walkers and we’d be running the risk of getting lost out there,” Rick said. “We don’t know the area.” 

“We’ve done dangerous shit before for stuff that was less important,” Daryl offered. 

“Think about what you’re suggesting, man,” Shane said. “You want to go out there and walk through the woods? You want to go looking for a town that’s been cut off by accidents and car pile ups? You saw the herd on the highway. You know how many of them are out there. You’re talking about possibly letting them catch you when—when there’s nowhere to hide. There’s nothing to stop them.”

“We couldn’t handle a herd like that again,” Lori said. “We’d be risking everyone’s life…”

“An’ you don’t wanna do that, do you?” Daryl snarled. “You don’t wanna risk nobody’s life. Not for Sophia. If it was for your kid, then you’d risk every one of us, wouldn’t you? One at a time, you’d feed us to the Walkers. You all would if it was Carl that was in that bed barely breathin’. You would if it was Lori that was—that was thinkin’ her kid was sick an’ maybe dyin’. Wouldn’t you? Shane—that what happened? Out there? With Otis?” 

“I know you’re upset, son…” Hershel started.

“I ain’t your son!” Daryl snarled.

“Daryl—I think it’s time we stepped outside,” Dale offered.

“Come on, man,” T-Dog seconded, stepping around the crowd to try to reach Daryl.

“What’s going on out here?” Carol asked, appearing behind them. She’d clearly heard some of the commotion from the room.

“Daryl’s upset, that’s all,” Rick said. “Carol—why don’t you go back in the room with Sophia? We’ll take care of it.”

“Upset! Upset my ass! You’d all rather let a little girl die than try to save her!” Daryl spat.

“What are you talking about?” Carol asked. “What is he talking about?” 

“Carol—just go back in the room with Sophia,” Shane said. “We’ll handle this in the morning. Just go back in the room.” 

Shane pushed past Daryl and caught Carol by the shoulders. He practically tried to wrestle her back in the room. She struggled against him, swept up in panic, and he tried to force her into the room. 

And Daryl could barely breathe for the emotion that surged up within him.

“Get your fuckin’ hands off her! You’d handle it now if you gave a damn! Why don’t’cha tell her that—like she ain’t already knowed it?”

Daryl darted toward Shane and Shane shoved Carol through the doorway and into the bedroom just as he turned to shove Daryl outward and toward the door at the end of the hall that would take them to the porch. 

Daryl spat a few words at Shane of which he wasn’t even entirely aware. He heard Shane shout some words at him that he couldn’t fully comprehend either. Suddenly, he felt the air being cut off from his throat. He felt it, this time, in such a way that he knew it wasn’t related to his emotions. He was being choked from behind. He was being very forcefully and intentionally choked. He was being shoved. He was being dragged. 

Coughing and rasping and starting to see darkness that wasn’t the night, Daryl was finally set free to breathe air again when he hit the ground, hard, just beyond the porch steps. He stayed down a moment, in the dirt.

“That’s illegal,” he spat out.

Suddenly there were hands on him. Cool hands. Soft hands. He expected Carol but found Andrea—given away by the rasping cough that got worse when she yelled something at Shane and her voice went hoarse. He found Shane with his eyes. He found Carol, too. He could hear her calling out to him, but she couldn’t get to him. 

Shane was holding onto her. He was saying something about her own protection like she would ever need protection from Daryl.

Daryl wasn’t sure if he got to his feet on his own or if Andrea helped him, but she stood behind him and his throat still burned—now from having been so thoroughly choked on top of everything else.

“You’re just gonna calm down!” Rick yelled. “There’s nothing anybody can do until the sun comes up! You’re just gonna have to calm down until then or we’re going to be forced to—to find a way to restrain you.”

“Don’t be too hard on him,” Hershel said. “He has every right to be upset about his daughter’s well-being.”

“She ain’t his daughter!” Shane barked with a laugh.

She could be. Daryl thought it, but he didn’t say it. He didn’t say the words, but he ached to say them. He ached for them to be true, even though he’d never fully admitted that to himself before.

“I thought you were married.” 

Hershel was saying it to Carol. Carol said something to Hershel. It was too low for Daryl to hear it as the blood coursed in his ears. Andrea’s hands were on his shoulders—soft and very unlike Rick’s had been when he’d pushed Daryl after nearly choking him unconscious from behind. Carol said something to him. She called out his name. It sounded like she wanted him. She wanted him to come to her. He could come to comfort her because she couldn’t come to him. Shane was holding her. Lori was holding her. She couldn’t come to him.

“Face it,” Shane said. “Carol wouldn’t marry him. If she had a kid with him, it would be feral. Spitting and fighting like an animal. She’s not his daughter.”

“Fuck you,” Daryl spat. It didn’t come out as forcefully as he wanted. He barked much like Andrea was barking as she continued to say things to Shane. “Fuck you,” Daryl repeated. “Any of you—all of you—that wouldn’t help that lil’ girl. I’ll do it my own damn self.” 

Carol called out to him from the porch—a desperate sound almost like a howl. It made his chest constrict and his heart felt like it seized over the sound. One thing they were right about was that she was better where she was at the moment. Sophia was sick. She may be dying. She needed her mother. They wouldn’t save the baby, but they’d at least keep Carol near her. 

“You’re where you need to be, Carol,” Daryl called out. He walked off, determined to go to the tent and collect himself so he could figure out what he needed to do. Andrea followed him out to the tent. He could be sure that Dale wasn’t too far behind because he could hear him calling out for the blonde.

“What do you want?” Daryl asked.

“Shane shouldn’t have said that,” Andrea said. 

“Yeah, well, he didn’t lie,” Daryl said. 

“I don’t think he told the truth, either,” Andrea offered.

“Get back to the house ‘fore Dale has a stroke,” Daryl snarled, lighting a cigarette to help calm his nerves.

“I’ll go with you,” Andrea said. 

“You gonna die yourself if you don’t rest,” Daryl said. “Won’t do none of us no good. Besides—your hackin’ll have Walkers all over us.”

“You can’t go alone,” Andrea said. 

“I told you! Get your stupid ass back to the farmhouse!” Daryl barked. He stepped forward quickly and rushed her like he would hit her. She surprised him because she stayed where she was. In the darkness, he couldn’t be sure if she flinched or not. He softened. His aggression wasn’t really meant for Andrea. She didn’t deserve it. “Take care of Carol. She’s gonna need—she’s gonna need somebody just…just right now.”

“You can’t go alone,” Andrea repeated.

“Only damn way I know to do shit anyway,” Daryl said. 

“Come back?” Andrea asked.

“Take care of Carol?” Daryl asked.

“I will if you will,” Andrea said.

“Deal,” Daryl said. “Get back now, because I don’t know if I’ll find enough antibiotics for you, too.”

Andrea walked off and Daryl sat down to let his nerves calm and to smoke another cigarette in peace. At the farmhouse, they were dealing with things. Andrea would calm Carol down. Carol would focus on Sophia. 

And by the time they all rose, shortly after the sun, they’d find that Daryl was well on his way, due northeast, to a little town called Marion.


	25. Chapter 25

AN: Here we are, another chapter here. If you’re interested, I may be able to get another out on this one today. I have most of the day for writing.

If you’re wondering about my timeline, I start the class a week from today. I’ll be doing some family stuff so I’ll be in and out, but I may get to write a bit more before the class.

I thank you so much for your responses to the last chapter! I’m so glad y’all are enjoying this story! I hope you continue to enjoy! 

Please let me know what you think! 

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Daryl had done just about every kind of shit job—literal and figurative—under the sun in his lifetime. He usually worked them for short stints. He was there just enough time to pick up a few skills and then to lose the job, or to quit it because it was unbearable, because he was a Dixon and that was just what the hell happened.

One summer when he’d been pretty young, he’d gotten a job at some stables that catered to rich little girls with wealthy, doting parents and elaborate birthday parties. His job had been to muck stalls, groom and feed horses, and saddle the horses for the little girls. He’d been a behind-the-scenes kind of guy that smelled like horseshit most of the day, and he’d hated the job. He’d left it after three months when he had some change in his pocket.

He’d been happy for the skills he learned there when he’d borrowed one of Hershel Greene’s horses and saddled it in the barn. He hoped the old man wouldn’t mind his borrowing the horse, and he hoped he was able to return it in one piece. The old man had quite a few horses, and Daryl could make better time on the beast’s four legs than he could on his own two. The map he’d checked out—since he knew Marion was where he was headed and he could guess at about where the farm was given the exit they’d taken—told him that the trip via the roads was a lot longer than a straight shot through woods, graveyards, farms, or whatever the hell else might stand between him and the little town.

The map didn’t do much for Daryl as far as directions went. The compass he had did more for getting him started than the piece of paper did. The most the map did was convince him that he could be back by lunch with a touch of luck.

He got off to a solid start. He was convinced he would make it back early. He’d make it back before they hardly even had time to start to talk about the fact that he’d left. The horse was making good time, the Walkers were very few, and the landscape wasn’t too hard to traverse. He was just walking the horse near a ridge, some movement below him having caught his attention, when it all went to hell. 

He never saw the snake, but the horse did. 

When Daryl woke up the first time, something had been nudging him. Someone had been trying to wake him up. When he’d come into himself, he’d realized that it was a Walker that was just deciding to try to take a bite out of Daryl’s boot. Daryl reached around and found his knife. His movements stirred up the Walker, but he was still able to take it out. He was able to take out the second one, too, that came from the side to see what his companion had found to eat.

Just before he passed out again, Daryl realized that, on the way down the ravine, one of the bolts he was carrying to protect himself from the Walkers had gone through his side. In addition, the crossbow on his back had done some damage to his back and his head had clearly made impact with quite a few things. It was better to remain conscious. He might never wake up again if he slipped out of consciousness. He needed to bind his wounds. He knew all these things, but still he slipped out of contact with his reality.

The next time Daryl woke up, he was aware that he wasn’t alone, but nobody was chewing on him this time. Instead, when he opened his eyes, they slowly came into focus on the face of his brother as he stood over Daryl.

“Look at’cha rollin’ around in the dirt, baby brother,” Merle said. “Like a fuckin’ pig.”

“Merle?” Daryl asked.

Merle laughed.

“You ain’t happy to see your big brother?” Merle asked.

“Thought you were dead,” Daryl said.

“Here I stand, bigger’n shit,” Merle said. “It’s you looks like you ‘bout to be dead, brother.”

“Fell,” Daryl said. “Tryin’ to get to…town. Gotta get drugs, Merle.”

“An’ you shamed my ass all those years for the drugs.”

“Not like that, Merle. Her kid’s sick. Gonna die. Gotta get ‘em for her. Pretty lil’ girl, Merle. Sweet. Soph.”

“You got a thing for lil’ girls now, brother?” Merle asked.

“Not like that, Merle,” Daryl said. “She’s gonna die. Don’t deserve that. Her Ma don’t deserve that.”

“You got a thing for lil’ girls’ Mas then,” Merle said. Daryl didn’t answer him. He didn’t have to answer him. Merle would know. Daryl knew that Merle would know. He didn’t know how he got there, or why he was there, but he knew that Merle would know—even if Daryl had only barely come to know it himself. “You think she’s gonna care about you? You think—if you bring these drugs back she’s gonna care about you? She ain’t never gonna care about you, brother.” 

“That’s what Shane said,” Daryl said.

“Shane was right. She ain’t never gonna care about you,” Merle said.

“She might,” Daryl said. “She does. Sleeps real close to me at night. Warm.”

Merle laughed. 

“She’s just usin’ you. They’re all just usin’ you. Real good for what you can do for ‘em, but they don’t care about you. Ain’t nobody ever gonna care about you but me, lil’ brother. An’ you out here lookin’ for drugs for somebody don’t care about you an’ you left me. Sure didn’t look for me.”

“I did look for you,” Daryl said. “We come back. If you’da stayed.”

“They’re all laughin’ about you right now, brother,” Merle said. “You know that, don’t’cha? They’re all laughin’ ‘cause you’re out here doin’ their dirty work. You’re out here breakin’ your neck an’ they’re all laughin’ at you. She’s laughin’ loudest of all.”

“She ain’t,” Daryl growled. “She ain’t laughin’ with them!” 

Daryl sat up to shove his brother backward. He sat up to force him to take back his words. He sat up to make him admit that Carol wouldn’t laugh at him. 

He sat up because it mattered, more than he’d ever realized before, what Carol thought about him—even if he didn’t care that much what the others thought.

But Merle was gone. He’d never really been there, of course. Daryl realized that as he came into himself. But Merle was always there in his mind, just like his old man. At least it wasn’t Rooster Dixon that had showed up to harass him at the bottom of the ravine. 

Daryl made his way down to the water that trickled through the ravine. He didn’t care if it was dirty or not. He filled his mouth full several times and spit it out to wash the taste of dirt and blood out of his mouth. Then he drank a little to keep from thirsting to death. He cupped his hands and used the water to wash the wound on his side. He broke the arrow off and pushed it through, biting on a stick he found to try to keep himself from passing out again. He bound the wound and glanced at the sun.

He was losing time. He wouldn’t make it back by lunch. That was far too lofty a goal, especially now. He might make it back by dark, though.

If he could ever get out of the ravine.

The first two times he tried to climb, he simply tumbled back to the bottom. He gritted his teeth against the pain of his injuries, though, and tried again.

The third time, Merle showed up. 

“Right on time,” Daryl growled at him.

Merle laughed at him—always a few feet ahead.

“You ain’t never gettin’ outta this hole, boy,” Merle said. “You gonna die here. Like a dog. An’ they ain’t nobody gonna come lookin’ for you. That lil’ girl you so fond of? Mmm hmmm…she’s gonna die too, ‘cause you couldn’t get your sorry ass out a hole.”

“She can’t die, Merle,” Daryl said. “She don’t deserve to die.”

“Lot’sa damn people die that don’t deserve it, boy,” Merle said. “You done hangin’ onto them roots? You gonna climb out the fuckin’ hole or you gonna die here?”

“She needs them drugs,” Daryl said. 

“You better climb, boy,” Merle said. “You don’t an’ she’s gonna die. They gonna let her die. Throw her in a hole somewhere, too, like she don’t mean a thing.”

“If I just knowed—I wish I knowed she was gonna be OK, Merle,” Daryl said, the pain in his chest and throat blending with the pain in the rest of his body.

“Gotta get your ass out the hole or she dies,” Merle said. “Don’t nothin’ else matter. Get out the hole and make sure she lives, boy. Get out the hole an’ be your own damn sign if it matters to you.” 

“What if I can’t get out?” Daryl asked. He tried to climb and the dirt under him gave way. He tried to move upward and he slid down. Merle gritted his teeth at him in the angry way he usually did when he was moments before trying to take his baby brother by the scruff and force him into something. 

“Hike up your fuckin’ skirts, brother, an’ climb!” Merle barked. “You don’t want that girl to die then you fuckin’ climb! You don’t an’ you die—takin’ her right along with you. Gonna be your fault ‘cause you pussied out on her!”

Daryl was determined. He wasn’t going to let Sophia die. He might not be able to stop it, exactly, but he wasn’t going to simply sit back and let it happen. He wasn’t going to lie there and die in a hole while he thought about Carol holding her daughter as Sophia let go of the hold her little hands had on this life.

Inch by inch, Daryl found his way over the side of the ravine with his brother barking at him to climb like a drill sergeant. He thanked Merle, too, as he came over the side and settled, face down, in the damp dirt to rest a moment.

But, of course, Merle wasn’t there. 

He’d left something behind though. He’d been looking out for Daryl.

Daryl heard the nicker of the horse and glanced to see it, some feet away, feeding off a patch of grass it had found. It should have run off. There was no reason that it stayed other than it appeared that the bridle had snagged on a bush and the horse wasn’t daring enough to snatch it loose to find its freedom once it had escaped the snake that spooked it. 

That wasn’t all that Merle left him, though. 

Daryl pushed himself up onto his hands and knees. He winced at the pain that surged through his body—the pain he’d swallow down to go the rest of the way for the drugs. He wasn’t going to let Sophia down. He wasn’t going to let Carol down. 

And Merle had left him a sign.

Daryl’s eyes came into focus on the string of white flowers growing in the abundance of vegetation near him. They were right where Merle was sitting—or at least where Daryl had imagined he was sitting—while he’d been barking at Daryl to man up and crawl out of the hole. Daryl knew what the flowers were for. He knew what they meant. 

For what comfort they offered him, Daryl reached up and yanked several of the flowers free. He tucked them into his shirt pocket with his compass. During all of that, he hadn’t lost his compass. He opened it up, found that it wasn’t broken, and used it to get his bearings. 

His gut told him that it hadn’t been an accident. He was meant to find the drugs and he would. He’d steer clear of ravines, and he’d give them wide berth on the way to the town and back, but he was meant to find the drugs. He was meant to get them back to Sophia. 

And if he got a move on, he could be back before dark.

Daryl patted his pocket where the flowers were nestled in with his compass and he got to his feet. He stumbled over, freed the horse from bush that held him in place, and gave the animal a good talking to about how they had to work together in this. Daryl would keep the beast from getting eaten by Walkers if it were possible, but that would only work if she let Daryl stay with her. There was nothing to save her, after all, except pure damn luck—and maybe Merle—while Daryl had been down in the hole nearly dying.

Finally, feeling a little stronger, Daryl got in the saddle again and steered the horse in the direction of the town, giving wide berth to the ravine.

He had work to do and the day—and Sophia—wouldn’t last forever.


	26. Chapter 26

AN: Here we are, another chapter. (This is the second today, so if you somehow missed the first one, don’t forget to go back and read it and, if you get a chance, leave me a little love and motivation!)

I’ve gotten hooked on this one at the moment, and I’m glad that you all seem to be enjoying. I’m going to see what else I can get out here.

Thanks for reading and reviewing! Your comments make my day! Let me know what you think of the chapter! 

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Carol was exhausted. She hadn’t slept at all the night before. She’d stayed awake, holding Sophia while she slept, while Andrea and Lori kept watch over her. She was aware that they said things to her, but she heard very little of what they said. The words happened like they were outside of her experience—part of another world, even.

Her baby was dying, and Carol wished that she could take her place. She was sure that, if Sophia did leave her, she would simply go with her. Her heart would shatter beyond repair and she would simply follow her daughter.

Of course she wasn’t sure that Sophia would die, and Hershel had tried to give her some hope by telling her that, even if Daryl hadn’t left the farm to get antibiotics, and even if he didn’t return with the medication, Sophia might fight off the infection herself, but Carol still felt hopeless.

So she held her daughter and she nursed her because it seemed that the only thing that brought Sophia any comfort was the medicine that the old man gave her to help soothe her symptoms a little and the time she spent nursing. Carol didn’t even pull her away when she was pretty sure that the baby wasn’t nursing at all but, rather, was simply sucking on her for the comfort she could find.

The food and water that Carol took in at Andrea’s insistence—practically fed to her by the woman’s own fingers—was only accepted because Andrea kept reminding her that, without it, she wouldn’t be able to produce the milk that made Sophia so happy. She had to take it in for Sophia. It would help her build her strength. It would help her fight the infection.

“This is my fault,” Carol said, finally speaking to Andrea when they’d been left alone. Hershel had told her to rest. Lori had to check on her own child which was doing well—her son which would live. 

“None of this is your fault,” Andrea said. She sat beside Carol on the bed. She touched her shoulder.

“I’m being punished,” Carol said. “For hating my husband.”

“Anyone would have hated your husband,” Andrea said.

“For wanting him dead,” Carol said. 

Andrea laughed to herself and the laugh brought up the rumbling cough in her chest. Carol frowned at her. Andrea smiled in response. 

“Maybe I’m being punished,” she offered, “because I wanted him dead, too.”

“He was my husband,” Carol said.

“He was—horrible,” Andrea said. “I’m sorry.”

“I was supposed to stand by him,” Carol said. “I was supposed to love him.”

“Until death do you part,” Andrea said. “You did your part. Even if I don’t believe in it—at least, if I don’t believe in that interpretation of it, you did your part. You stayed with him until he died—miserable and the cause of his own downfall.”

“I’m being punished,” Carol said. Andrea wiped Carol’s face with her fingers. “I hated my husband. I felt bitter because—of Lori. Because of all she had and how…how she was treated…”

“We’ve all felt bitter because of Lori,” Andrea said. “Shit—I’m being punished, too. I’m sorry. I only wanted to lighten the mood. Carol—you’re not being punished. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“What if God takes Sophia away from me?” Carol asked.

Andrea examined the bedspread and shook her head. 

“He won’t,” she said. “I’m sure—he won’t. He’s not that way, is He? He’s not that vengeful. If she goes…and I’m not saying she will…but if she goes…isn’t there the belief that it’s just how it’s supposed to be?” 

“This is never how it’s supposed to be,” Carol said, hugging her sleeping daughter against her chest. “This can’t be how it’s supposed to be! I can’t lose her! I’m never supposed to still be here when she’s not…”

“Shhh…” Andrea said, touching Carol’s shoulder again. She reached over and brushed her hand over Sophia’s hand and touched her cheek. “She’s here. She’s still here. I think her fever’s gone. She’s barely warm, Carol.”

Carol laughed to herself.

“You don’t know how hot she is because you’re—you’re like a furnace, Andrea,” Carol said. “You’re burning up.”

“Maybe I’ll take her place,” Andrea offered, touching Sophia’s hand again.

“I believe you would,” Carol said. “If you could.”

Andrea smiled at her. 

“I would,” she said with sincerity.

“It doesn’t work that way,” Carol said. “I’ve offered a hundred times today to take her place and I’m not even warm…”

“How do you know I haven’t made the same offer?” Andrea asked, raising her eyebrow at Carol. “How do you know—I didn’t get there first?” 

Carol dropped her face to brush her lips against the baby’s forehead. Maybe she wasn’t as warm as she had been. She was sleeping, now. Her breathing was still labored, but she was sleeping. She’d wake again, soon, and whine to be put back on Carol’s breast. She’d stay there, more than likely, until she drifted off again.

“What if Daryl never makes it back?” Carol breathed out.

“He’ll make it back,” Andrea said. 

“What if he—just left? What if he left because of Shane?” 

“He left,” Andrea said. “But it wasn’t because of Shane. He’ll be back. The only way Daryl isn’t coming back…” She hesitated, but Carol heard what she was saying without the words. “It doesn’t matter. He’s coming back.” 

“I have to believe you,” Carol said. “For Sophia.”

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The sun was almost ready to set when they heard the yelling outside.

Sophia was still alive. The medicine that Hershel gave her had soothed her once again, and she slept, sweating in Carol’s arms. But she was alive. And every second that Sophia remained alive gave Carol a little more hope.

Hershel came in and out of the room at intervals. Patricia brought cool water and food. Neither of them said much except the encouraging words that everything would be fine and Sophia was strong. 

Lori came in and out the room, but she seldom came further than just inside the doorway. Maybe she was afraid of Sophia. Maybe she was afraid of Andrea. Maybe she feared the germs in the room were worse than the ones that were causing what she had—something that seemed only like a dramatic case of allergies. 

Maybe she simply didn’t know what to say because her son was fine. They had all rallied behind him and he was fine and Carol was holding her daughter and fearing that every raspy breath was her last.

It was only Andrea that stayed with her. Sometimes she tried to offer words of encouragement, but mostly she simply stayed quiet and guarded the semi-sanctity of the room.

The yelling outside made Carol wonder if there were Walkers coming. It made her wonder if they were going to be swallowed up, somehow, by a herd. She rested Sophia on the bed, put pillows on either side of her to be sure that she didn’t fall off, even though she’d shown very little interest in movement for some time, and followed Andrea out of the bedroom to see what might be causing so much commotion.

“Get back in the house!” Shane barked as soon as Carol and Andrea stepped out on the porch. Immediately Carol realized his concern was probably over Lori standing on the porch more than it was the two of them.

“What’s going on?” Andrea asked, giving voice to what Carol was thinking but hadn’t yet managed to say.

It took only a second before Carol saw what was going on. Just at the line of the woods, just coming into the field, was a horse. The horse was slowly sauntering its way toward the house. On the horse’s back was a rider that was slumped and practically lying on the saddle. The rider was beyond guiding the horse. It was the horse that was bringing the rider home. 

“Daryl,” Carol said, more to herself than to anyone else. They were all yelling. Carol didn’t know why they were yelling thought. “Don’t!” She cried out. “Don’t yell! You’ll spook the horse! Daryl!” 

She bounded off the porch then, but she didn’t get far. Arms wrapped roughly around her and she lost her footing as her body was snatched backward while her momentum drove her forward. The only reason that she didn’t hit the ground was because the same person that had stopped her held her against him to the point that she couldn’t physically fall.

“Daryl!” She called out again. “Let me go!” 

“You don’t know what’s wrong with him!” Shane growled in her ear. “You don’t know what’s happened!”

It was T-Dog that started across the field toward the horse—hand out like he was requesting that the animal didn’t spook. It was Maggie that dropped down off the porch and raced after him calling out what Carol had already said—be careful not to spook the horse. She identified the horse as Nellie, a particularly nervous animal, and T-Dog let her overtake him so that she could catch the reins as a familiar to the horse. 

Shane held Carol’s arms behind her back to keep her from going toward the horse—saying something about getting trampled or hurt—and only once she howled out in discomfort from the way that he was twisting her shoulder, seemingly unaware of his own strength or the force he seemed to think he needed to put into holding her. 

Andrea brought water and Rick joined the others to help Daryl down off the horse. On his back, he was wearing a sack in addition the crossbow and quiver that he normally wore when he went out hunting. When his feet hit the ground, he was instantly awake, even though he’d appeared unconscious on the horse, and he stumbled around like he was drunk before he caught his stride and started back to the house. 

As he walked, Rick flanked him. T-Dog walked quickly beside him. Dale tried to catch him, and Andrea tried to offer him the water. He shook them all off like a dog shaking off water.

“Get the hell away from me,” Daryl growled. “Don’t touch me. Get your damn hands off me!”

Once he’d shed those that surrounded him, whether or not they were trying to help him, he had practically made it to the porch. He stopped right by where Shane was holding Carol.

“Get your hands off her,” Daryl said. 

Carol’s chest ached. She didn’t know what had happened to him, but he was filthy and bloody. There was clearly dried blood on his face and his body. He was dirty enough that he was barely recognizable. When he spoke to Shane, it wasn’t with the bellowing sound of his words the night before. The words he let out now came out like a slow growl and he held Shane’s eyes with his own, ignoring entirely the fac that one of his eyebrows was matted with his own blood.

“Ain’t you heard me? I said let go.” 

Shane did let go of Carol. 

“You’re hurt,” Carol offered, immediately reaching out for Daryl. He shied away from her hands, though, and instead gave her the bag. It was heavy. It was very heavy.

“Didn’t know what to get,” Daryl said. “Got everything.”

“Thank God!” Lori called out from the porch. Daryl immediately swung in her direction.

“You back up!” He barked at her. 

“Daryl!” Shane started. Daryl swung back in his direction before he reached an arm out and put it between Carol and Shane to somewhat push Carol behind him. 

“You back up, too! All of you! Back the fuck up! I didn’t get this for you! Didn’t get it for none of you! You wouldn’t go out there an’ get it. Didn’t give a damn about gettin’ it. I done it. I got it. It’s mine to do with what the hell I please. Mine to give out where I see fuckin’ fit. It don’t belong to none of ya! An’ you don’t get a damn bit of it! None of you! I don’t give a damn—don’t give a damn if you die or not! All of you!”

“Daryl—you’re hurt,” Rick said. “Your hungry and—you’re tired. You don’t mean that, brother.”

Daryl laughed to himself.

“Ain’t your brother,” Daryl growled. “You lost me my brother. ‘Member that? He does. I do. I mean what the hell I said. Back up or I’ll back you up! This ain’t none of y’all’s. It don’t belong to none of you!”

“Son—why don’t you come inside?” Hershel offered. The old man’s tone was gentle and even. He’d appeared from behind them at the porch door. He slowly descended the steps and got near Daryl. “Come on, son, let’s go inside. Let’s see what you got in the bag.”

Carol appreciated Hershel’s gentle tone, and maybe Daryl did, too. He didn’t remind the old man that he wasn’t his son. He didn’t bark at him to get away when he neared them, and he didn’t say anything when Hershel touched Carol’s shoulder first and then Daryl’s. 

“Got all the ‘cillins an’ everything else I could find,” Daryl said. 

Patricia appeared from where Hershel had come and reached her hand out to Carol. She took the bag that Carol was holding and Daryl watched her take it, but he seemed to believe that Patricia could be trusted with his goods.

“You did good,” she said, looking into the bag.

“Somethin’—somethin’ gonna save Sophia?” Daryl asked. 

“You’ve had quite the bump on the head,” Hershel said. “Looks like—a lot’s happened out there. Come inside. Let’s get you cleaned up and—see what I can do for you.” 

“Sophia…” Daryl said.

“We’ll take care of Sophia, son,” Hershel said. “Just—why don’t you come inside? We’ll take care of Sophia and we’ll take care of you. We’ll take care of everything.”

Daryl followed Hershel and Patricia into the house, and Carol followed him. Everyone who might have had something to say before didn’t say anything now. Everyone just stood, silent and frozen in place, as Hershel led them into the farmhouse. 

Daryl had made it back, against the odds, perhaps, and he’d brought the medicine. It was his to do with as he pleased, just like he’d said, and Hershel seemed to be upholding that belief. 

Sophia would get what she needed, and Carol couldn’t recall a time she’d ever felt more grateful or more thankful in her whole life.


	27. Chapter 27

AN: Third part today, and I might have more in me. I’m at a very compelling (for me) part of the story. It’s a part that I’ve had planned out since the beginning and I’m kind of sucked in. I hope you don’t mind! If you’ve missed the other two parts, don’t forget to go back, read them, and offer me some love if you’ve got the inclination to do so! 

Thank you all for your kind words! They mean so much to me! It’s so wonderful that you’re enjoying this and I’m excited about sharing as much with you as I can before I have to stop! 

I hope you enjoy this part! Let me know what you think! 

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At Daryl’s bidding, the first thing that Hershel did, after arranging the medications so that he could see what the bag had to offer, was to dose Sophia with something that would help her rest and something that would start to fight the infection. Carol could barely breathe, from happiness and renewed hope this time, when she’d heard Hershel declare that her daughter would feel better by morning, and she’d be healed, more than likely, by the end of the week.

Hershel asked Carol for space and privacy, and Carol had interpreted that at as moving to the chair in the corner of the room with her daughter. She nursed Sophia while Hershel and Patricia cleaned Daryl up and worked on his injuries. She refused to leave him entirely, even though they’d dosed him with something heavy for pain that might render him entirely unaware of her presence. If he was aware of it, though, she wanted him to be able to sense her in the room. She didn’t know if it would bring him any comfort at all, but she wanted him to have any comfort that she might possibly be able to give him.

He’d taken quite the hit on the head and he’d cut his head in the process of a fall—at least that’s what he’d told them. Hershel had cleaned the wound, sewn it up, and bandaged it. He’d done the same for the wounds on Daryl’s side where one of his crossbow arrows had gone completely through his body. Luckily, according to Hershel, it had missed any and all major organs. Then, when his minor surgeries were through, Hershel had dosed Daryl with some of the antibiotics for good measure, and he’d left Patricia to clean all the minor cuts and scrapes while he’d seen to some business elsewhere in his home.

When Patricia had left, Daryl appeared to be sleeping, unaware of what was going on around him. The medication he’d been given, thankfully, had dulled the pain that he had to be experiencing. Patricia offered Carol a soft smile, but she didn’t really say anything as she’d taken her things and left the room. Carol sat, though she wasn’t sure how long, in the chair and watched Daryl sleep across the room. In her arms, she imagined that Sophia was already breathing better—that she was already sleeping better—even if she knew it was likely only her imagination letting her perceive what she wanted to perceive. 

Carol jumped at the knocking on the door. She settled, though, as the door cracked open.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” Beth said, peeking her head into the room. She was the youngest of Hershel’s daughters—barely more than a child herself—and she was soft spoken and a little skittish. Carol smiled at her.

“You’re fine,” she said, barely raising her voice above a whisper so as to disturb neither Daryl nor Sophia.

“Ummm—your friend, Lori? She asked me if you could help with dinner,” Beth said. “We’re a bit short-handed at the moment and…if you weren’t busy…”

Carol didn’t respond to Beth with the million thoughts that pin-balled through her mind. The young girl didn’t need to hear all of them. She was just a little girl, after all. 

“I’ll be right there,” Carol said quietly.

Beth nodded her understanding, glanced around the room, and then she closed the door back. Carol stayed where she was until she heard the click of the door closing entirely and the latch sliding into place. She pulled Sophia against her, kissed the top of her head, and walked over to the bed. 

What they’d given Sophia to help her rest had her sleeping solidly. Her tummy was full and she was clean. She’d be satisfied for a while. Carol eased her down on the bed, and then she arranged pillows around her to form barriers so that pillows blocked her from rolling in most directions and Daryl’s body blocked her from rolling in the other. 

She bumped Daryl, gently and accidentally, as she arranged her daughter to sleep next to him. He jumped, thoroughly startled, it seemed, by the unexpected touch. He rolled his eyes around, noticed her there, and immediately tried to pull his blankets up. Carol smiled to herself. She knew, very well, what he was trying to hide.

There was no need to hide it from her.

“It’s OK,” she said. She didn’t tell him what was OK. She didn’t say another word about it. All she did was help him pull the blanket up to cover the bandages and the cruel scars on his back. He tensed, but then he relaxed.

“What you doin’?” He asked.

“Putting Sophia down to rest,” Carol said.

“Where you goin’?” Daryl asked.

“I have to help with dinner,” Carol said. 

“Why can’t they handle it?” Daryl asked.

“I guess—they’re short-handed,” Carol said. 

“They’ll make do.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Sophia…” Daryl said.

“Is sleeping,” Carol said. “Good. She’s clean and fed. I thought—maybe she could lay with you. If you don’t mind. It’ll be more comfortable for her than being in the sling right now.”

Daryl reached a hand out and touched the sleeping baby. He caught her tiny hand between his fingers and, for the first time, Carol really noted the difference in size between Sophia’s tiny fingers and Daryl’s large ones. Her heart clenched in her chest at the feeling that swept over her when she saw how delicately he touched Sophia’s hand. She felt the feeling rush through her entire body. It tugged at parts of her that she’d almost given up for dead. She felt her cheeks run warm and she was a little ashamed of herself and her body.

“She’ll be safe with me,” Daryl offered. The feeling that had washed through Carol surged once more. She felt it in every inch of her body.

“I know she will,” Carol breathed out. 

She couldn’t help it. She might have fought it before, and maybe Daryl would have appreciated if she’d fought it then, but she couldn’t stop herself. Carol leaned over Daryl and gently brushed her lips against his temple, just below the bandage that covered over the cut that Hershel had claimed could have taken an eye if he’d been a little less lucky in the fall.

Daryl flinched—jerked, really—at the soft brush of Carol’s lips. 

“Sorry,” Carol breathed out. She hadn’t been able to help it, but maybe Daryl hadn’t wanted a kiss from her. She swallowed back against the ache that the thought caused her.

“Careful,” Daryl said, relaxing again. “I got stitches.”

Carol had seen him get the stitches, but maybe he hadn’t realized she was in the room. She straightened up and rearranged his blanket once more. 

“There’s—something I have to tell you,” Carol said. “Something you’ve got to know.”

Daryl rolled enough to glance at her and then he looked back at Sophia—back away from Carol. He hummed at her in question.

“I can never thank you for what you did for me today,” Carol said. “What you did for Sophia.” 

“She was sick,” Daryl said. 

Carol smiled to herself. She hummed in the affirmative.

“You did more for Sophia today than her daddy would have done for her in his whole life if he’d lived,” Carol said. “He never would’ve…”

“Old man,” Daryl said. 

“I’m sorry?” Carol responded.

Daryl rolled to look at her. 

“Old man,” Daryl said. “I hated—when my old man would call himself my daddy. He was my old man. But he weren’t my daddy. If—if what I done, he wouldn’t do? Sorry to say it, but he was just her old man.”

“You’re right,” Carol said. Her throat ached and she pretended that she wasn’t struggling against the tears that wanted to form in her eyes. “He was.”

“I ain’t even nothin’ to her,” Daryl mused, rubbing the baby’s hand gently between his fingers.

“Oh—I wouldn’t say that,” Carol said. “You’re…” She paused. She wanted to say so much. She felt so many things that she felt forbidden to feel. She felt, at that moment, so many thoughts burning in her mind and in her body that she could barely sort them out—and most of them would require her putting words in Daryl’s mouth and thoughts in his mind that he probably didn’t have. 

“You heard Shane,” Daryl said. “Everybody did.”

“Shane’s an asshole,” Carol said. “You’re—at the very least? You’re her guardian angel, Daryl. You saved her life. If it weren’t for you…” She broke off, sure that she couldn’t continue. She broke off because she was sure that if she kept going, she’d say something that would embarrass her. She’d say something that might very well drive Daryl away.

Everything within her might be crying out for something more at the moment, but she certainly didn’t want to risk the friendship that she shared with Daryl. She valued it far too much.

“Shane’s an asshole,” Carol repeated, barely breathing out the words.

“He was a cop,” Daryl said. “Him an’ Rick.” 

“So?” Carol said. She started to touch him again. She started to stroke his shoulder. She had no idea why the urge simply bubbled up inside her, but she fought it. She drew her hand back. He never knew what she was thinking of doing. He’d never seen her make the movement and she covered any movement that he might have sensed by brushing the blanket like she was smoothing out a wrinkle. 

“You should know, Daryl, that…no matter what they say? No matter what anybody says? You’re every bit as good as Rick or Shane. Every bit. Better—from where I’m standing.”

Daryl hummed at her, but he didn’t’ say anything. He didn’t believe her. Carol could tell that, and it made her heart ache that he thought so little of himself. It made her heart ache that someone had taught him to think so little of himself and that others reinforced it.

She thought so much of him that she couldn’t begin to put it all into words. She thought so much of him, then—at that very moment—that she could barely contain it. It made her feel like her heart might burst in her chest just to try to hold it all inside. She wanted to tell him everything she thought and everything she felt—even things she was barely comfortable admitting to herself. 

She wanted him to see himself the way that she saw him. She wanted him to understand that, in her eyes, he was a hero. He was the greatest hero that there had ever been. He was the only real hero that she’d ever seen with her own eyes. 

There was no man that could hold a candle to him—and certainly not the men that surrounded her that would have simply sat idly by and watched her hold her baby while she drew her final breaths.

But she couldn’t tell him all of that because he probably didn’t want to hear it from her. He probably wouldn’t believe her, and he probably didn’t want the likes of her thinking those kinds of things about him.

Even if she didn’t say it, though, she was still going to feel it. 

The only thing that she could do, then was to lean down and brush her lips against his temple once more. This time, he didn’t flinch. He didn’t pull away. He didn’t remind her of the stitches that she hadn’t even gotten close to touching. 

He simply closed his eyes and cuddled the pillow, rubbing his face against it. 

Carol smiled to herself. 

“I’ll be back if she needs anything,” Carol said. “But there’s a bell here if you need anyone before that. I’ll bring dinner for you when it’s done.” Daryl hummed his understanding. Carol fixed his blanket once more and no longer lied to herself. She knew that it was just a reason to be near him again. It was just a reason to touch him one more time. He didn’t tell her to stop. He didn’t pull away. “Sweet dreams,” Carol offered, lowering her voice. “To both of you.”


	28. Chapter 28

AN: Here we are, the fourth part today (I believe). As I’ve said before, if you’ve missed the others, please make sure you go back and read all the parts! Don’t forget to show me some love if you feel so inclined. I have appreciated, so much, your feedback so far! 

I’ll write what I can in the coming days. There’s so much to happen that I’m excited about sharing! We do have some group interaction coming up that will further the storyline. 

I hope you enjoy the chapter! Let me know what you think! 

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“Can I sleep with you?” Carol asked. She was already halfway in the bed and halfway under the cover when Daryl woke up to the feeling of her shifting the mattress.

“Where you been?” He asked. Carol took that as an invitation to climb the rest of the way into the bed. He didn’t object to her sharing the room or the bed.

“I helped clean up,” Carol said. “We can’t take advantage of Hershel’s hospitality and good nature by dirtying up his whole house and then leaving it that way.”

“You the only one around here got thumbs?” Daryl asked.

Carol laughed to herself, but she didn’t respond. She’d already changed Sophia’s diaper without disturbing Daryl or the baby, and she’d assured herself that the baby was sleeping peacefully. Sophia was sleeping, at the moment, with her mouth open. She was lost in complete abandon between the two of them.

Daryl was looking at Carol over Sophia and it sent a shiver up her spine to have him looking at her so intently. She decided, though, that he was simply looking at Sophia and she was imagining herself in his line of sight. 

“Hershel wants to keep you dosed on pain medication and antibiotics for a couple of days,” Carol said.

“Don’t want it,” he said. “Give it to Soph.”

“There’s enough for both of you,” Carol said. “He wants you to take it easy. Don’t hurt yourself. I don’t think he’s asking as much as he’s telling. I think you should take what he gives you. It’ll be good for you.” 

“He give you a good dose of them antibiotics too, didn’t he?” 

“Just like you asked,” Carol assured him, but I think I’ll be fine. I really don’t feel any worse than I have with any cold. “If there’s some to go around…”

“I said my peace on it,” Daryl said. “Greedy assholes…”

Carol dropped it. There was time to bring it up again, but she could tell immediately that Daryl wasn’t in good spirits and he didn’t want to talk about sharing the antibiotics. She would wait until he’d rested a bit more. 

“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “I brought you clean clothes for—for when Hershel says you can get up and get around.”

“You ain’t throwed out my stuff,” Daryl said. 

It was neither question nor statement, so Carol decided to take it as a question. She hummed in the negative. 

“I cleaned your pockets out,” Carol said. “I can’t mend the shirt, though.”

“Rag,” Daryl said.

“It is now,” Carol said. “I’m sorry. But—you had a few more.”

“Ain’t worried about it,” Daryl said. 

“I cleaned the pockets out, though,” Carol said. 

“Got my lighter? Cigarettes?” 

“Everything you had in there. He said you can smoke in the room as long as you open that window and sit in the windowsill. I put everything of yours over there. Daryl—there were even some…well…some flowers in your pocket.” She laughed to herself at the absurdity she’d felt pulling crumpled and half-destroyed flowers out of Daryl’s pocket. They’d seemed so out of place, and they were all but dead, but she’d still put them on the dresser because she didn’t want to throw away anything that had any meaning to him.

“You threw ‘em away?” Daryl asked.

“They’re over there,” Carol said. “I’m afraid—they were dead when I found them. You want them?” 

He hummed at her in the affirmative and made like he might sit up. Carol waved him back down. She slipped out of the bed and padded across the room in her bare feet to retrieve the flowers. She came back and offered the crumpled plants to Daryl.

He looked at them. He turned them over in his hand.

“He put ‘em there,” Daryl said. 

“What?” Carol asked.

“Nothin’,” Daryl said. “It’s a Cherokee Rose.” He offered the half-destroyed flowers to Carol. She took them to humor him, mindful at the moment of the heavy medication that Hershel had given him. “The story is that when American soldiers were moving Indians off their land on the Trail of Tears, the Cherokee mothers were grievin’ an’ cryin’ so much 'cause they were losin’ their little ones along the way from exposure and disease and starvation. A lot of them just disappeared. So the elders, they said a prayer; asked for a sign to uplift the mothers' spirits, give them strength and hope. The next day this rose started to grow where the mothers' tears fell.” 

Carol swallowed against the lump in her throat. She touched the soft petals of the dying flowers. 

“That’s beautiful,” she breathed out. 

“Found those today,” Daryl said. “Comin’ out that ravine. Just—wanted a sign that I was gonna find what I needed to find. Gonna get back here. That she was gonna make it. I weren’t givin’—I weren’t givin’ you no false hope. Look—I’m not fool enough to think there's any flowers blooming for my brother. But I believe this one bloomed for Sophia. It bloomed to say—she’s gonna be alright. She’s gonna pull through this. Through this whole damn world, maybe. So you don’t gotta cry for her.”

“Thank you,” Carol said. “They’re beautiful.”

“They’re dead,” Daryl said. “I crushed ‘em.”

Carol swallowed and nodded her head.

“You crushed them because—you were busy saving my baby,” Carol said. “You were busy—giving me hope.” 

“Just a silly story,” Daryl said as though he immediately felt the need to draw attention away from it and dismiss something that he clearly believed in. 

“No,” Carol said. “No, it’s not. Thank you. You should—get some sleep.” 

Daryl didn’t respond to her, and Carol didn’t force any such response from him. She put the crumpled flowers on the nightstand beside the bed and she blew out the lamp. She moved her hand over and rested it over Sophia’s body, lightly touching her chest to feel the sensation of her breathing as it came deeper and easier than it had even hours before. 

While she lay there, Carol felt the warm sensation of Daryl’s hand covering hers. He was seeking the same thing. He wanted reassurance that Sophia was resting and healing. He let his hand rest over Carol’s for only a moment before he apparently realized he was touching Carol’s fingers and not Sophia’s chest, and he pulled his hand back. Regardless, Carol knew that his hand had been there, and part of her wished that he’d left it.

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Carol stuck close to Daryl in the days to come. He rested and healed in the little room, and he didn’t complain when Carol slept next to him in the bed with Sophia between them. The first night after he returned with the medication, Carol slept more soundly than she expected to sleep. The second night, she slept even more profoundly. The following morning, she was pleased to be awoken by the sounds of her daughter babbling at her, happily, while she pushed against her like she might use her for something to stand with in the bed.

Carol smiled and reached a hand out to brush it over Sophia’s hair. The baby’s hair went in every direction because she’d sweated several times as her body fought the fever, and she’d slept on it a great deal. 

Sophia squawked at Carol and, realizing she was awake, started to threaten fussing. Carol moved around enough to raise the shirt she was wearing so she could bare the breast closest to Sophia and, without having to even direct the baby, Sophia changed her position so that she could comfortably nurse.

“She sure knows what the hell she wants,” Daryl said.

Carol jumped. Her movement disturbed Sophia, and she dropped her latch to stare at Carol in shock, but it didn’t take her long to settle back down. 

“I didn’t realize you were awake,” Carol said. 

“Been restin’ my eyes,” Daryl said.

“I’m sorry,” Carol said. “I didn’t mean…” 

She started to scramble to try to cover herself and Sophia. Daryl laughed to himself and sat up.

“Ain’t like I ain’t seen you feed her before,” Daryl said. “Gotta eat. Glad she’s feelin’ good enough to ask for it like that insteada whinin’ for it all pitiful like she’s been doin’.” 

“She feels better,” Carol said. She brushed her hand over Sophia’s head again while she nursed. “Because of you.”

Daryl glanced at her, but he quickly averted his eyes. Carol knew that he always got a little jumpy when she fed Sophia. He didn’t want her to stop. He never asked her to stop. But it was clear that he wasn’t sure where to look, and even though she’d told him that he didn’t make her uncomfortable, it was clear that he was worried he did. 

“Gotta get out this fuckin’ bed,” Daryl said. He groaned, shifting around to do just what he said he needed to do. “Lay down so long I’m stiff. Damn near growed to the mattress.” 

He’d only been up to smoke at the window a few times and to go to the bathroom in the small bathroom connected to the bedroom. Neither of those things had he done more often than he deemed necessary, either. 

“You need to be careful,” Carol said. “Those stitches in your side need to heal.”

“I hear ya,” Daryl confirmed. 

As he started to get up, Daryl seemed to realize that he was without too many articles of clothing. Carol saw the moment that he realized how little he was wearing and tried to work out for himself how he would get to the clean clothes that she’d brought for him. Carol laughed to herself. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen him without much on. They’d been practical bunkmates for a while, but she put her hand over her eyes for his benefit anyway. 

“I put your clean clothes on the chair,” Carol said. “I’m not looking.”

Daryl grumbled something that Carol couldn’t understand. He got up, though, and went for the clothes in question. She listened to him as he dressed. She waited until she was sure that he’d had time to get into his clothes, and Sophia was done with enough of her breakfast not to fuss, and then she reached over the side of the bed and dragged her pants under the cover to pull them on. When she glanced in his direction, Daryl was watching her, but he didn’t say anything. 

Instead, he came to rescue Sophia when she started crawling in his direction like she might crawl right off the side of the bed.

“Don’t!” Carol barked, reaching a hand out and catching Sophia’s leg to stop her forward progress. “Your stitches. You don’t know how much weight you can pick up. You don’t want to bust them.”

“Sophia don’t weigh nothin’,” Daryl protested.

“Until you ask Hershel,” Carol said, “I think it’s better to wait.”

Daryl didn’t have time to argue and Carol didn’t have time to offer anything else in the way of insistence that Daryl not pick up Sophia. There was a knock at the door that nearly interrupted the last words out of her mouth. Immediately following the knock at the door, the door cracked open and, slowly, Hershel’s head appeared. 

“My apologies if I was interrupting anything,” Hershel said.

“Nothing,” Carol said. “We were just—getting dressed. Daryl wants to be out of bed.”

“That’s fine,” Hershel said. “Just—take it easy.” 

“Can I carry Sophia?” Daryl asked.

“What?” Hershel asked.

“She weigh too much?” Daryl asked. “Or can I carry her?” 

“I think—she would be fine,” Hershel said. “But mostly I would tell you to listen to your body.”

“Don’t she look good?” Daryl asked. He took that as his invitation to pick Sophia up, so he rescued her from the bed and Carol let him take her and hold her against him. He offered her in Hershel’s direction for the old man to inspect her.

Hershel reached a hand out and touched Sophia’s face and neck. For his efforts, she tried to lick him and he laughed to himself before he ruffled her hair. 

“She looks like she’s on the mend,” Hershel said.

“How many more days she gotta take them antibiotics?” Daryl asked.

“I’d finish the week,” Hershel said. “If they hold out. I think I’ve got them pretty well rationed for her to finish a good course of them and for you and Carol to have some like you asked.”

“Rationed?” Carol asked.

“Daryl cleaned out two offices and the school,” Hershel said, “but it would appear that antibiotics weren’t what they had in bulk. Besides that—the dosage is good bit different when we’re talking about humans, even small ones.” 

“But there’s enough?” Carol asked.

“There’s plenty,” Hershel said. “And a little leftover besides…if you wanted to offer it around to those who are not feeling their best.”

“I told you,” Daryl said. “They took everything I had before. I give ‘em all that. I’m under no obligation to give ‘em this, too.” 

“I understand, son,” Hershel said. “And I wouldn’t say anything if I didn’t think—you were possibly making a choice between life and death. I’ve done what I can do, but without your permission to use the extra antibiotics…”

“The ones you ain’t set aside for Sophia,” Daryl said.

“The ones not set aside for anybody in this room,” Hershel said. “Without your permission to use those, I’m afraid that I’m down to—just giving pain medication to make her comfortable.”

Carol’s chest tightened quickly at the thought of losing someone. Losing anyone seemed cruel. 

“Lori seemed fine last night,” Carol said. 

“Lori’s fine,” Hershel said. “She’s got a cold. Nothing more. It doesn’t seem to be turning feverish. But—I’m afraid that Andrea isn’t faring as well. Daryl—if I could just have a word with you?”


	29. Chapter 29

AN: I had a few minutes, so there’s this. 

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

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Carol followed Daryl only because he asked her to come with him. Sophia was safe, for the moment, with Patricia, and Carol was confident that the woman—doting on the little girl as she would—would more than meet Sophia’s needs in her brief absence.

When they got to the RV, Dale met them like a gatekeeper. Carol half expected him to ask them for a password.

“Where is she?” Daryl asked, holding onto the door of the RV the moment it was opened.

“In the back,” Dale said. “Daryl…”

“Man, go take a walk or—get a glass of water or a shower…somethin’,” Daryl offered, cutting the old man off before he could launch into any kind of speech. “You ain’t no good to her or nobody else if you don’t take care of you. Eat. Sleep, even. If she’s set to depart from this world, we’ll let you know.” 

Dale opened his mouth to protest Daryl’s choice of words, perhaps, but then he seemed to think better about it. Maybe he simply lacked the strength to say anything. He let out the breath that would have been used with the words as a sigh, hung his head, and shook it before he pushed past Daryl and Carol and headed for the farmhouse.

“He doesn’t look good,” Carol offered quietly.

“Who the hell does around here?” Daryl asked. Carol could feel it was rhetorical, so she didn’t bother answering. 

The RV was fairly bright since Dale had all the windows open in an effort to let in sunlight and fresh air. They made their way to the back of the RV where there was a solitary bedroom. Carol let Daryl step through first, and she crowded in behind him in the tight space. 

Andrea was in the bed, but she wasn’t asleep. She opened her eyes and looked at the both of them when they entered. She offered them what might have been the start of a smile, but it was interrupted with a coughing fit that sent her scrambling for a handkerchief she’d lost in the blankets.

Carol immediately understood why Dale would protest what Daryl had said. Andrea looked like she might very well be on her way, very shortly, to whatever world she might be destined for after this one. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her face was red from the efforts of her hacking cough, and it was clear that she was sweating to the point of being visibly damp. Her hair stuck to the sweat on her face, but it was clear that she was reluctant to give up the blanket that she was using to warm her against the internal chill she must feel.

When the coughing fit was over, she dropped back on the pillow.

“Hershel said Sophia’s OK,” Andrea said.

“She’s gonna be fine,” Daryl offered. Carol leaned back against the wall. She was there, essentially, for support if Daryl needed it. She was leaving things to Daryl unless he asked her to do otherwise.

Andrea smiled.

“Good,” she said. 

“What about you?” Daryl asked. “You look like shit.”

Andrea laughed quietly and the laugh stirred up another of the coughing fits, though this one wasn’t as dramatic as the one before.

“I look as good as I feel, then,” she said. “Maybe better.” 

“Carol was—she was tellin’ me that…uh…that’cha had plans. We find us a place. Find us the rest of the people out there in the world. She tells me that you was plannin’ on settlin’ down. Havin’ a nice lil’ family. Couple kids.” Andrea hummed at him, but she didn’t fully acknowledge his words. “We gonna need kids. Build the world back up right. She figures—you’ll be a real good Ma to ‘em.” Andrea hummed again.

“I think—maybe someone else is going to have to do that for me,” Andrea offered. 

“I just want you to answer me one question,” Daryl said. He took Andrea’s silence as confirmation that she would do so. “You decided yet if you want to live? Or is this some kinda blessin’ to you? An easy way out?” 

Andrea laughed to herself.

“If I was choosing an easy way out, this wouldn’t be it,” Andrea said. “But there’s nobody to speed it up. Hershel won’t do it. Dale can’t. Glenn’s gone…”

“Where’s Glenn gone?” Daryl asked. Carol was surprised to hear, too, that Glenn was missing from the farm. They’d been closed up in the bedroom for the better part of their time, though, and had missed any happenings that had taken place.

“Town,” Andrea said. “For supplies.”

“Medicine for you?” Carol asked.

“Can’t be,” Daryl said. “Everywhere that’s easy to get to is out, and I can’t imagine Glenn goin’ even further than I went.” 

“I heard Hershel talking to Dale,” Andrea said. “Something—Lori or Rick or something…needed things. Hershel’s daughter went with him.”

“That ain’t important anyway,” Daryl said. “And you ain’t answered my question. You wanna die or you wanna…get on with your plan for livin’ your life?” 

“I liked the idea of the life that Carol designed for me,” Andrea said, smiling to herself. She shook her head. “But—I don’t really think it’s up to me anymore.” 

“So you wanna live?” Daryl asked. “Because—if you was to kill yourself? Lie to me to—kill yourself? I’d figure out how to bring you back so—so I could kill you myself…you understand? So you tell me the truth. You wanna live?” 

Carol understood very well that Daryl’s threat wasn’t an actual threat toward Andrea. He’d drawn close to her and the way he was looking at her spoke volumes. There was an affection there. It was clear that he knew what he wanted her to say. He wanted her to say that she wanted to live. But, more than he wanted her to say that, he wanted her to mean it.

Andrea coughed into her handkerchief again and, Daryl offered her a glass of water that was waiting nearby for her to drink it. She greedily accepted the water when the glass was placed to her lips—Daryl’s hand cupped underneath her chin to catch what ran down her face—and Carol wondered if she simply hadn’t felt strong enough to drink it and, instead, had been simply looking at it with fevered thirst.

“Yes,” Andrea said when Daryl rationed her by taking the glass away.

“Yeah you want more water?” Daryl asked.

“Yes—I want to live,” Andrea said. “I want—a chance at that life. If it’s out there.” 

Daryl put the glass down and pulled the bottle from his jacket that Hershel had given him. The measurements were easy to get right on the dropper, and Carol assumed that was why Hershel had given him that bottle and sent him in to see Andrea. He measured out the right amount of liquid according to Hershel’s instructions.

“Then you swallow this. Don’t’cha cough it out or spit it out or…whatever.” 

“No,” Andrea said, turning her face to refuse the medicine. 

“Yes,” Daryl said. He offered the dropper to her.

“Sophia…”

“Has her own stash,” Daryl said. “Me an’ Carol too. This is…it’s what we got left. What’s leftover. Oughta be enough to—well, if it don’t heal you, it oughta give your immune system a fightin’ chance to get you the rest of the way.” 

Andrea might have argued with Daryl further, but when she opened her mouth to do so, he treated her much like Hershel treated Sophia. He seized the opportunity to introduce the dropper into her mouth. Andrea accepted his gesture for what it was and swallowed down what he gave her. 

“Someone else might need it more,” she offered.

Daryl laughed to himself. 

“You about—a day or so from bein’ in the ground,” Daryl said. “There ain’t a damned soul needs it more that ain’t already accounted for.”

“Thank you,” Andrea offered.

Daryl seemed physically uncomfortable with the thanks. He nodded.

“Thank me by—livin’ that life you was talkin’ about,” Daryl said. “Stop runnin’ Dale crazy thinkin’ you gonna…ya know.” 

“I’ll name the first of—the first of those babies after you,” Andrea teased, smirking at Daryl. He smiled in response, though.

“Long as it’s a boy,” he said.

“What do you mean?” Andrea asked. “I think—Darylina is a precious name.” 

Daryl raised his eyebrows at her. 

“What makes you say that?” He asked.

“What?” Andrea asked furrowing her brows.

“Darylina,” Daryl said. “What—where’d you get that?” 

“Just—teasing,” Andrea said. “Did I say something wrong?” 

“Nothin’,” Daryl said quickly. “Nothin’. Just—heard it before. Somewhere. Someone—someone used to say it. Shit—get some sleep. We’ll tell Dale. That fever oughta break soon. Be back in a couple hours to give you more.”

Carol quickly stepped forward to quietly offer Andrea more of the water, remembering how thirsty she seemed to have been, and then she brushed the woman’s hair back from her face before she rearranged the blanket that was practically damp with sweat.

There wasn’t much more to be said, though, and Andrea really needed quiet more than she needed conversation. Daryl led the way out of the RV and Carol followed him.

“That was nice of you,” Carol said as soon as they were clear of the RV. Daryl immediately started walking toward the farmhouse, and Carol stayed close behind him.

“She shouldn’t die,” Daryl said. “Like you said—she’s got potential for a long life. A decent one, at least.” 

“And she can repopulate the Earth,” Carol offered with a laugh.

Daryl stopped his forward progress.

“Shouldn’t have said that?” He asked. “You said she wanted kids…”

“She said she did,” Carol said. “I don’t think she was offended, Daryl.”

“World’s gonna need kids,” Daryl said. “If so many people’s dead. Soph—she ain’t gonna wanna grow up alone.” 

Carol smiled at him. 

“I hope she doesn’t grow up alone,” Carol said. “And I meant what I said. It was nice of you to do that for Andrea. You care about her.” 

Daryl raised his thumb to his mouth and gnawed at his cuticle.

“Been through a lot,” Daryl said.

“We all have,” Carol said. Daryl hummed and nodded his head. Carol felt her stomach churn. There was no need for the squeezing sensation that she felt in her gut, but it was there, just the same. “Can I—Daryl—can I ask you something?” 

Carol felt her pulse pick up at the thought of asking him what her brain offered to her. He furrowed his brow at her. Maybe he was stirred up, momentarily by her facial expression. Maybe it was the fact that she’d dropped the volume of her voice and quickly glanced around to make sure that they were alone, even though they were in the yard of the farmhouse. He glanced around, as well, to check their surroundings. He never told her, verbally, that she could ask her question, but he nodded his head. He almost seemed as nervous about hearing the question as she felt about asking it. 

“It’s none of my business, really,” Carol offered. “And—if you don’t want to answer it…”

“You gonna ask it, or you ain’t?” Daryl asked. There was a bit of bite behind the words, but Carol accepted it and chocked it up to the anxiety that his face said he was feeling.

“Do you like Andrea?” Carol asked.

Daryl’s shoulders drooped with relief. He laughed to himself.

“Yeah,” he said. “I mean—don’t you? She ain’t done nothin’ to nobody except—mighta aged Dale a couple years.” 

“No,” Carol said. “I mean—do you like Andrea?” Daryl furrowed his brow at her. “Like—well…more than as a friend?”

“You mean like—like Rick an’ Shane like Lori? That kinda like?” Daryl asked. Carol nodded her head. Daryl continued to stare at her with a furrowed brow for a moment. He gnawed his cuticle and looked at her like he was taking in absolutely ever inch of her face—like he might remember each freckle that spotted her skin or all the little knick-sized scars that she’d earned one way or another. “I like her. Like a friend. I don’t wanna see her die. Her sister died an’ she took it hard. I understand. I lost my brother. Kinda makes me think…well…that maybe we got somethin’ in common.”

Carol sucked in a breath. The increasing tightness in her stomach and chest suddenly released without warning. She had no right, really, to care what Daryl thought of anyone. She had no right to question who he liked or what the nature of his relationships were. 

But she was relieved to hear how he felt about Andrea, even if she had no right to be.

“That’s—all?” Carol asked.

“What more you want there to be?” Daryl asked. “You—wantin’ me to…to like her more’n that?” 

“No,” Carol said quickly. “No—I don’t want you to…do anything that you don’t want to do. I don’t want you to feel…about anyone…any way that you don’t feel.”

“Good,” Daryl said. He stared at her a moment more, as intently has he had before, and Carol thought he might say something else. “That’s all?” He asked.

“What do you mean?” Carol asked.

“That’cha—that’cha wanted to ask me?” Daryl asked. 

Carol’s chest clenched. She crossed her arms across her chest. 

“What—else would you…would you want me to ask?” Carol asked.

Daryl simply stared at her, again, in response. He started like he would speak, but he didn’t say anything. Carol let the silence hang between them to give him the chance to get around to saying whatever he was chewing on. When he did speak, though, he was already turning to resume the course on which he’d been when they left the RV. “Gotta tell Hershel she took it. He’ll wanna dose her again later.”

Carol stood where she was a moment, arms crossed across her chest, and watched him go. She watched the stiffness in his movement that slowly gave way as he relaxed into his steps. She wondered what he might have said if he hadn’t opted to leave whatever it was unsaid and, instead, to tell her something she’d already know about Hershel. 

Daryl stopped abruptly, turned back, furrowed his brow at her.

“Well?” He asked. “You comin’?”

Carol smiled to herself and nodded. Oddly enough, just the expectation that she would follow him into the farmhouse unknotted some of the tangles that felt like they’d formed in her core muscles.

“Yeah,” she said, picking up her steps. “I’m right behind you.”


	30. Chapter 3

AN: Here we are, another chapter here. 

I’ll be in and out for a while, writing when I can. I hope to have a little more time today.

I hope that you enjoy the chapter! Let me know what you think! 

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Carol dragged the contents of the tent out and shook everything before she neatly put it back. Sophia played with a few toys and crawled around on a blanket that had been spread out for her nearby. She happily barked at Carol and anything that caught her attention. When Carol acknowledged her with a simple “hey baby” or anything of the sort, Sophia would stop what she was doing, sit back on her bottom, and grin happily at being paid attention.

She was a living example of the fact that babies could be counted on to be resilient. She was back to her old self to the point that Carol might have believed—if her heart didn’t still ache from it and her mind didn’t still wake her with nightmares—that Sophia had never been deathly sick to begin with. Andrea, on the other hand, was proof that the virus, or whatever it had been, had swept through their little group. It had been a few days since she’d started the medication that Daryl had offered her and, though it had snatched her back from the absolute brink of death, she still looked frail when she stepped outside the RV to take in sunlight and breathe fresh air.

At least she was capable of breathing it, though, and at least it seemed like the worst of that was behind them. They suspected, without any reason to do so, that there might be any number of illnesses simply travelling in the wind. The world belonged to the dead now, after all, and there was no way of knowing exactly how that might impact the living.

Carol preferred the fresh air, really, to the stale air of the farmhouse. Even with the windows open, it seemed impossible to really air the old house out. It was stifling at times.

On top of that, she felt like she was constantly being watched. She felt like she wasn’t welcome there. She felt like she needed to answer the question of how long she expected to be there and when she thought she might leave.

And it wasn’t Hershel that watched her that way. The farmer, really, seemed to be settling into the idea that they might stay. He hadn’t said as much yet, and Carol certainly wouldn’t push him and hoped that nobody else would either, but he seemed satisfied. He’d stopped reminding them that they were going to leave. He stopped asking them when they planned to go. 

He had even asked to hold Sophia, once or twice, when he wasn’t examining her. Carol had let him take her to the rocking chairs on the front porch to sit with him and enjoy the breeze.

It wasn’t Hershel that made Carol feel like she wasn’t welcome in the house with Sophia—it was the mention from others that Sophia must be feeling better because she was louder than she had been when she’d been sick. Daryl had pointed out, just that morning when Shane had made such a remark, that it had been difficult for Sophia to act like any normal baby when she’d been dying from the crud, and he’d done it in such a way that Carol had thought it might be better to put a little distance between Daryl and Shane.

Hershel seemed content enough, at the moment, to let them stay there, but that wouldn’t last if Daryl and Shane were to tangle up and start fighting.

So, Daryl was out hunting nearby for the group and Carol was shaking out the contents of the tent that they had shared before to make sure that nothing creepy and crawly had made a home among the blankets while Sophia had been on the mend. 

Carol tucked the blankets and other items back inside the tent. Most of the belongings that they had were being stored in Daryl’s old tent to make more room for sleeping in the one they shared. 

It felt strange to Carol that she would just assume that Daryl—who had been staying in the bedroom in the farmhouse with she and Sophia—would return to the tent with them. Without speaking about it, Carol had simply assumed that he would want to go where she was. He would want to share the tent instead of remaining inside the somewhat overcrowded house.

And it struck her, as she tucked his favorite poncho into the tent, neatly folded for when he would want it next, that, perhaps, she needed to speak to him about her expectations. Perhaps she needed to find out if she was out of line for having them. 

She feared saying or doing anything that would put distance between them, but part of her needed to know.

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Daryl had barely gotten in from hunting, dressed the meat, and started to skin it—meat which Carol would prepare for their evening meal in Hershel’s kitchen and with the old man’s blessing and thanks—when he was snatched away by Rick and Shane.

Carol already knew what they were going to talk about. The discussion had eaten up the better part of the morning for those involved—namely Hershel and his oldest daughter, Glenn, Rick, Shane, and Lori. Some of the discussion had been heated, and some of it, when it had drifted out to meet Carol as she moved, practically invisible, from chore to chore, had made Carol’s stomach clench with uncertainty about their future.

For whatever reason, though, nobody thought they should bring it directly to Carol’s attention. Neither she nor any of the others needed to be informed until a decision had been made. Maybe their opinions simply didn’t matter. Carol had kept quiet, though, and waited to see how things might unfold. 

Daryl had barely gotten back before they’d tried to quietly lead him away and, whether or not it was her place at all, Carol had left her work of hanging sheets to dry and had followed to see what might be said. 

The tension was palpable and Carol hugged Sophia to her and kept a bit of distance from the center of things. When she walked up, Carol could tell that Daryl had already been quickly briefed on things and was taking in what he’d been told. She caught a few glances from Rick, Shane, and Glenn as they were gathered there, but nobody said anything about her presence. 

Glenn had found the problem last night.

The farm sat on a sprawling spread of acres of land. It boasted close proximity to woods and creeks. It had underground wells and good soil. There was livestock that, if cared for, would continue to reproduce. There were horse barns, storage barns, barns for equipment, and a few barns for crop storage in various shapes and styles that dotted the land that Hershel Greene could count as his own. For that reason, after all, they hoped that they could stay long enough to convince the old man that he’d like to live in a community—and then they might build something of a collection of small homes on the unused portions of the land to create a truly comfortable home for them all.

One of the barns was tucked somewhat back and away from the house. It was a regular old barn—not that much different than others on the property—and nobody paid it much attention. It was a bit of a hike from wherever they were to get to the barn, so there was no need to go out there. 

But, apparently, Glenn had a need to go out to the old barn the night before. What he’d found when he’d gotten there had surprised and horrified him. 

The old barn was full of Walkers that were chained inside to roam around the enclosed space. Carol had heard the wafting notes of discontent that had been expressed already. She’d heard the different sides that people were on. She’d heard Hershel’s explanation and his final word on it all—it was his farm, and they were squatters. If they wanted to leave, the gate had been oiled recently enough that he was almost certain it would still open to allow them to go—and they should be sure to close it upon their departure.

And now Daryl knew. 

The presence of the Walkers made Shane angry. It made him visibly volatile. In addition to whatever had him stirred up before Daryl had even left to go hunting, the presence of the Walkers had elevated him to a status of bothered that had Carol careful to keep her distance and to keep her position somewhat behind Daryl. Shane was practically caging.

And Carol could see, from the way that everyone else was watching him, that they saw it, too. 

“We have to tell everyone,” Glenn said. 

“We’ll tell everyone,” Rick said. “Make sure that everyone’s aware. That they’re careful.” 

“Man, how are you gonna be careful when there’s a barn full of those things a few feet from where you’re living? Where you’re sleeping at night? Where Lori and Carl are sleeping?” Shane bellowed out his words. He was loud enough that Carol regretted having brought Sophia with her because, even though her daughter had been contently wrapped against her chest while she’d been hanging sheets, she started to fuss at the unnecessarily loud and angry words that escaped Shane. “We gotta clear ‘em out!”

“You heard Hershel,” Rick said. “He believes they’re sick. He believes they can be cured. He’s not ready to give up on them.”

“So we do it anyway!” Shane barked. “What the hell is the old man going to do?” 

“This is his land. It’s his land and his house and his damn barn full of Walkers,” Daryl said. “You can’t just bust the damn door down an’ do whatever the hell you want and to hell with what he says.”

“So we leave!” Shane insisted. “We pack everything up and we leave. We get away from the crazy old asshole and his crazy ass family!” 

“And go where?” Daryl asked. “Back out there? Talk about jumpin’ from the fuckin’ fryin’ pan into the fire.”

There was bite in Daryl’s comment and it apparently caught Shane wrong. Until then, he’d been caging like he might lash out at anyone present. As soon as Daryl made the comment, though, his attention focused solely on Daryl.

“So you wanna just stay here?” Shane asked. “Sleep knowing those things are right on top of you?” 

Carol caught that Rick was staring hard at Daryl. She’d already heard Rick and Shane fighting. Rick wanted to stay. He wanted to at least consider alternatives to leaving. He wanted something that would make everyone happy, but wouldn’t cost them the farm where they were all starting to feel comfortable. He had even stopped carrying his gun, for the time being, to appease Hershel just a bit.

“From what you’re tellin’ me, they been on top of me since we got here!” Daryl said. “Been on top of all of us ‘cause that barn ain’t moved. But I didn’t even know they was there. You didn’t either until Glenn here went lookin’ around where he really ain’t had no reason to be. The barn’s out here. It’s chained up. They don’t seem capable of gettin’ outta the damn door.”

“We can reinforce the doors,” Rick offered, stepping forward like he might try to calm Shane down. “So they can’t get out.”

“You can hear them trying to get out now, Rick!” 

“They only makin’ that much noise because you’re out here yelling!” Daryl barked.

Shane locked his eyes on Carol, then. He really noticed her for the first time. For the first time, he said nothing about Sophia being upset. He said nothing about her that made Carol feel that her baby was unwelcome in the group. Instead, he rushed toward her a little too quickly for Carol’s comfort. Carol took a step backward and felt a rush of relief as Daryl very clearly placed his body between Shane and her—directly in Shane’s path. Shane stopped his forward movement, but he still addressed Carol.

“That what you want, Carol? To stay here? Let them get out? Let ‘em eat you while you sleep? Eat Sophia? Tear her apart?” 

“Shut the fuck up, man!” Daryl barked. He surged toward Shane, then, and backed Shane up by shoving hard against his chest. 

It was a warning blow. Carol had seen anger enough to know what Daryl was doing. His buttons were being pushed and he was running out of the self-control required to keep from lashing out at Shane. The shove didn’t hurt Shane, but it was a warning that Daryl had taken just about as much as he intended to take. Carol would argue that Daryl’s fuse was long—especially in comparison to some—but everyone had their limits.

At the shove, Glenn scurried a few steps away and Rick stepped forward to put himself between the two men and stop the fight before it happened. 

Rick’s presence was enough to turn Shane’s attention for a second.

“You don’t deserve anything you got, man! You don’t deserve any of it! You’d stay here and listen to some crazy ass old man! Put everyone in danger! Lori and Carl—you don’t deserve anything you got!” 

“Just calm the fuck down!” Daryl barked, attempting to step in and help Rick in the same way that Rick had tried to take some of the heat off of him. Shane swung almost instantly.

“You can play fuckin’ house with Carol all you want,” Shane barked. “But that’s all the hell it is! Playin’! You deserve exactly what you got—nothin’! That’s all you’ve got and it’s all you’ll ever have! You think they give a damn about you? Soon as Sophia’s old enough to see you for what you are? Look at you…she’ll run the other way when you get near her!”

Carol wasn’t hit with the impact of the words as much as she was hit by the visible impact that they had on Daryl. She could see the air leave his chest the same as if Shane had taken a sledgehammer straight to his sternum. 

With less energy than before, because Shane had seemingly drained everything out of him that even existed, Daryl lunged at Shane. He landed a solid punch to Shane’s face, and then another, before the two of them toppled to the ground. If he’d gone in with the full force of the anger he’d threatened before—if Shane had never knocked the wind out of him—he might have severely injured him. As it was, he bloodied Shane’s face before Rick could drag him off.

And as soon as he hit his feet, Daryl staggered away and started to practically lope off toward the woods. He stopped only a moment to look back at Shane and then back toward Carol.

Carol’s chest ached at the expression on his face when he made eye contact with her. She found her voice since it had gone missing with the chaos surrounding her. 

“Daryl—wait…” she begged.

He trotted off and she followed him.

“Go away!” He warned, yelling back at her. “Get away from me! Leave me alone! Don’t’cha fuckin’ follow me!” 

Carol slowed her steps. She hugged her desperately unhappy daughter against her. She watched Daryl as he loped across the field and disappeared into the woods. She respected his wishes and gave him the distance that he needed.

She didn’t return to see what Rick, Shane, or Glenn might say. She didn’t return to washing the sheets or to preparing the meat that Daryl hadn’t finished cleaning. Instead, Carol took her daughter and she returned to the small tent that had become their home.

She wouldn’t follow him, because he deserved to have his wishes respected, but she would be there when he came back—and she believed he would come back.


	31. Chapter 31

AN: Here we are, another chapter here. 

Thank you so much for the welcome back! You really know how to make me feel loved! I appreciate all your support and I’m thrilled that you’re enjoying this as much as I am! 

I hope you enjoy the chapter! Let me know what you think! 

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Sophia had recently woken with a complaint about her diaper, but Carol had gotten her quickly back into a deep sleep. Carol liked to watch her when she slept. She slept with absolute abandon. She slept the way that everyone, Carol was sure, wished that they were capable of sleeping.

Carol hadn’t left the tent since Daryl had left the farm. She had food, but that was only thanks to Andrea bringing out enough for her to eat and to share with Daryl if he were to return. Other than Andrea’s brief visit to the tent, Carol hadn’t seen anyone else from their group. She’d interacted with none of them. She was mildly aware that there was discontent flowing through the camp, but she had purposefully distanced herself from all of it.

Whatever they decided, it was of little concern to her until she’d spoken to Daryl. 

It was dark, but Carol wasn’t left in absolute darkness. The campfire she’d built, which she kept feeding with sticks that she’d collected together, was just large enough to keep the blackness from wrapping entirely around her. Carol sat a few feet away from it, on a folded towel, and just outside the tent where Sophia was sleeping. 

Some distance away, a lamp flickered in the tent that T-Dog had claimed near the RV and one flickered in the tent that Glenn called home. There was no evidence that anyone was awake in the RV, but a few windows in the house showed signs of lamps still burning. 

There were no other fires burning at this hour and everything was still and silent. Carol could almost sleep where she sat, but she was waiting on Daryl. Wrapped around her shoulders, she’d borrowed Daryl’s poncho. She told herself that she wore it to ward off the slight chill that she felt when sitting still in the coolness of the night but, really, the nearby fire took care of that. 

She jumped at the sound of a breaking stick. Her pulse instinctively picked up at the sound of a footstep.

“Daryl?” She called out quietly, barely putting voice to the word.

There was another barely audible sound of leaves crunching or dirt shifting and Carol hit her feet. She wrapped the poncho around her shoulders—wrapping herself in the scent of Daryl—like just the smell of him might protect her if there was something unknown around her. 

“Daryl? Is that you?” She asked softly.

“You better be damn glad it ain’t nobody else,” Daryl growled in the darkness. Carol looked for him but her eyes hadn’t found him yet. “What the hell you doin’ out here? Oughta be asleep.”

“I was waiting on you,” Carol said.

“I ain’t your problem,” Daryl said. “Just like you ain’t my problem.”

Carol pretended that the words and the bite behind them didn’t sting. Daryl came into view. He practically slinked into view. It was immediately clear that he’d had a hard day.

“I kept you a bucket of water,” Carol said. She quickly went for the pot that she would use to warm the water, transferred the water to it, and placed it on the fire. “You can wash up. Clean your hands. I could bandage them for you—if you like.”

It was better to her if she kept herself busy. It was better to give Daryl the time he needed to talk about what had happened, if he wanted to talk about it at all.

“You cold?” Daryl asked.

“What?” Carol asked. “There’s a towel—for you to sit on. If you like…”

“You cold?” Daryl asked, accepting a seat on the towel she’d put down for him. “The poncho…”

“You mind?” Carol asked, starting to shed the garment that she was wearing more like a cape. Daryl held his hands up quickly to stop her. 

“Keep it,” Daryl said. “Don’t get cold.”

“I’m not,” Carol said. “Not really.” She felt herself relax, oddly enough. Daryl’s tone was better than it had been. There was still something to it, but it wasn’t as harsh as it had been. Carol slipped into the tent that held their supplies and gathered the things she needed before she returned with the clothes, clean rags, soap, and towel that she’d sought. She brought the pot off of the fire, before the water could get too hot, and put it near her before she hit her knees on the towel next to Daryl’s and reached for his hand. He jerked it back, probably from instinct. “Your hands are hurt,” Carol said softly. “Let me help.” 

“You don’t gotta,” he argued.

“I want to,” Carol said. He let her have his hand. She carefully started to wash away the dirt and blood from his hand. She apologized when he hissed at her over the feeling of the water and soap in the wounds and she blew over his fingers—a sensation he seemed to enjoy. A quick glance at his face told her that he didn’t hate it.

“Why you wearin’ it?” Daryl asked.

“What?” Carol asked.

“The poncho,” Daryl said. “If you ain’t cold…why you wearin’ it?” 

Carol swallowed. Her stomach tightened. She asked herself if she dared to tell him the truth. 

Maybe he would hate her. Maybe he would run away again. Maybe the last thing that he wanted to hear was what she truly felt or thought. 

Maybe it was what he needed more than anything.

She couldn’t look him in the eyes, but she could pat his hands dry while she spoke and she could wrap his busted fingers in the clean rags she would use as bandages to keep the dirt out for the night.

“It smells like you,” Carol said. 

“Stinks,” Daryl said. 

“Smells familiar,” Carol said.

“Like sweat,” Daryl responded.

“Like—comfort,” Carol said. Carol held her breath a second before she glanced back at him. He was silent. He was still. His eyes were darting back and forth like he didn’t know where to look and he looked away from her when she caught his eyes. She could feel the tension in his fingers. But he didn’t pull his and away. Carol tenderly cared for his wounds, purposely taking her time. “Shane—had no right to say what he said to you today. No right at all.” 

“Had every damn right,” Daryl said.

“No, he didn’t,” Carol assured him.

“He ain’t lied,” Daryl said.

“Didn’t he?” Carol asked. She let go of Daryl’s hands—now clean and bandaged—and sat back on her heel. 

Daryl brought his hand up like he might chew at his thumb—he’d caused more than one of the injuries that Carol had cleaned and bandaged, of that much she was sure—and then he dropped his hand in frustration when he found he would get a mouthful of damp cotton because he’d be gnawing on the rag bandage. 

He got up and Carol let him. She knew better than to try to control Daryl or hold him down. It was better to let him do what he needed to do. What he needed to do, at this moment, was to take his pot of water and other belongings somewhere else. He gathered them up and started off some distance. Carol already knew what he was doing. He was going to bathe.

“You don’t have to go far, Daryl,” Carol said. “I won’t look. I’ll stay right here. Just like I am. You can have your privacy.”

Carol kept her word to stay where she was. She heard him when he stopped his steps, too. He hadn’t gone far. The darkness would hide him from anyone that wasn’t too close by. She would give him the privacy that he needed to bathe with the warm water and soap available to him and to change into the clean clothes. She listened to him undress in silence, and she listened to him rustling around as he took care of what he needed to take care of.

“Shane didn’t tell the truth,” Carol offered, her back still to Daryl. “Sophia—would never run away from you. She’s always happy to see you.”

“She’s a baby,” Daryl said. “Don’t know no better.”

“She’s a baby,” Carol echoed. “Perhaps—she knows better than any of us do. She can sense things and…well…she’s really not old enough, Daryl, to just be polite about things. She doesn’t understand that. She likes who she likes because they’re good to her. And she—Daryl? She does more than like you.” 

Carol’s heart thundered in her chest. Her chest ached. She wanted desperately, as she knelt on the towel on her knees with her back to Daryl, to confess everything to him. She wanted to confess her thoughts and feelings. She wanted to confess everything she’d hid to keep from scaring him away. And, slowly, she could feel her resolve to keep it a secret cracking and falling away.

“She loves you, Daryl…” Carol said. 

“Familiar,” Daryl said. 

“Yes,” Carol said. “But it’s more than that. Shane’s familiar. Rick. Glenn. T-Dog. But she doesn’t love them. She loves you, Daryl, because she feels that you love her.” 

“Shane’s right,” Daryl said. “She ain’t my kid.”

“And I’m sorry for that,” Carol said.

“What?” Daryl asked.

Carol’s chest seized and she wished she could take back the boldness of her words. She hoped that he really hadn’t heard her or that he was pretending he hadn’t so he could really give her the chance to take it back.

“She’s not your biological child,” Carol said. “No. But she doesn’t understand biology. She doesn’t know what it means. She only knows one thing. How she feels.” 

“She don’t know I ain’t no damn good,” Daryl said. 

Carol felt the warm wetness dripping down her cheeks. She felt the constriction in her chest and the ache in her throat. 

She had cried for a man before, but never like this. The tears she’d shed for Ed—the tears he’d practically reveled in—had never been pulled from her body like this. 

“She knows you’re—so good,” Carol said. “So good. Just like me. Better than Shane. Better than any of them.” 

She heard Daryl moving around in silence. She listened to him as he probably dried and dressed himself. She kept her back to him because she respected his wishes, but also because she was afraid to face him. 

“If you think that, then you don’t know the fuckin’ truth, neither,” Daryl said. “I ain’t no good. I ain’t never been no good.”

“You are to me,” Carol said. “And I never knew you before so, whatever you were before? It doesn’t matter to me, Daryl. Not anymore than you want it to matter. I only know who you are now. And you’re a good man. I know that…and Sophia knows that.”

“I ain’t no kinda man like Rick or Shane,” Daryl said. 

“I know,” Carol said. “You’re better…”

“I come from shit,” Daryl said. “Raised in hell.”

Carol laughed to herself.

“It’s OK,” she said. “I’ve been there myself. Sophia—was conceived there. Born there. We’re—we’re familiar with the territory.”

“You got out,” Daryl said.

“You did too,” Carol offered.

“I’d just drag you right back into it,” Daryl said.

“I don’t believe you would,” Carol said.

“You don’t know me,” Daryl said. 

“I don’t—not as well as I’d like. But I know you enough,” Carol said.

“You thought Merle was an asshole—you never met Rooster Dixon,” Daryl said. “My old man.”

“You aren’t your old man,” Carol said. “I know that. Sophia does too.”

“Can’t help what you are,” Daryl said. “You don’t know I wouldn’t just up an’ turn into him. I don’t wanna—do that. Not to you. Not to her.”

“Then you won’t,” Carol said. 

“You don’t know it!” He barked.

“I do,” Carol said, making sure she kept her voice as steady and full of confidence as she could. 

“Shane was right,” Daryl said. He walked closer. Carol heard him coming up behind her. She stayed down, though, with her back to him for a moment longer. “I don’t got shit. I ain’t never had shit and I ain’t never gonna have shit. That ain’t for me. Ain’t for people like me.”

Carol held her breath a moment and then she put her hands down to support herself and help herself to her feet. She got up and brushed off her palms before she wiped at the wetness that coated her face. She turned around, entirely unsure what to expect.

She didn’t expect to see him standing there, shoulders slumped forward, with his shirt sticking to his damp skin, looking at her like everything was wrong in the world and he’d lost even the will to live.

“You deserve…so much,” Carol breathed out. He shook his head at her and she nodded at him. She could never explain to him how much she felt he deserved. She could never explain to him how little she knew she had to offer him and how happy she felt just to be in his presence. She didn’t try. Not right away. “You do,” Carol said. She offered him a smile and he shook his head. The frown he was wearing deepened. If he cried, she’d already decided she would never mention it to another soul. For good measure, though, she let a few more tears slip from her eyes and she cried for him—for all the pain she saw in his face. “Daryl…” She said. “Don’t listen to Shane or—or anyone who’s talking to you right now. In your mind. Because—I know all about the voices. I hear them, too. But don’t listen to them. Just listen to me. Can you hear me?” Carol asked.

“Yeah,” Daryl said softly, barely releasing the word.

Carol smiled at him. 

“Good,” she offered. “Now—Daryl? Just—tell me what you want.”

He stared at her, hard, and Carol held his eyes. She kept her distance, afraid to push the envelope more than she already had. She stilled herself and prepared for the fact that she may very well hear something she didn’t want to hear. She was fully prepared, though, to accept whatever he said because, ultimately, she wanted him to be happy.

Her stomach flipped, when Daryl spoke again. The word was barely audible, but it was clearly spoken. There was no denying what he’d said.

“You.”


	32. Chapter 32

AN: Here we are, another chapter here. 

I hope that you enjoy! Let me know what you think!

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Carol quickly crossed the short distance of ground that separated them and reached her hands out to touch Daryl’s face. Clearly, he flinched at her touch and pulled his face away out of instinct, but as soon as he realized that her hands on his face were only meant in a gentle caress, he relaxed a little and allowed Carol that touch. 

She kissed him before she said anything in response to his confession. She kissed him before she even thought about the fact that she was going to kiss him. She caught him off-guard, and the kiss that he offered her in exchange for her kiss was little more than the confused pressing of his lips against hers for a second before she could practically feel him struggle to figure out what was taking place.

Carol released him then and smiled at him.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“Don’t…don’t apologize,” Daryl said. “Ever. Not for—not for that.”

“When you said you wanted…me, did you mean it?” 

Daryl laughed nervously. It was a short burst of laughter. 

“Why would I say it if I didn’t?” He asked.

“I want you, too,” Carol offered. She felt the heat burn in her cheeks. It was difficult to say. Even when things had been at their best with her ex-husband, it wasn’t something she would have said to him. That wasn’t how their relationship had evolved. It wasn’t representative of the kind of person he had been or the kind of person she was when she was with him. It felt awkward, even now, but it felt right.

And it quickly felt even more right when Carol saw Daryl visibly relax more. This time, he reached a hand out to her. Instead of flinching away, she closed her eyes. She already knew what sensation to expect. She felt the gentle brush of his bandaged fingers on her cheek. She felt them trail down and explore her throat for a second before his hand settled behind her neck. With her eyes closed, Carol drank in the first gentle explorations of Daryl’s fingers, and she felt the rest of her body waking up to the possibility that there would be more. 

The kiss he pressed to her lips was soft and tentative. It was simple and he repeated it. For the simplicity of the kiss, though, it still did overwhelming things to Carol’s body. She felt warmth spread through her. Her pulse picked up. 

“I ain’t no good at this,” Daryl said. “Any of it.”

His voice was almost unexpected. It pulled Carol back from the place where she was swimming in the quiet contemplation of all that she hoped was to come. She opened her eyes to him. 

“What?” She breathed out, realizing that she’d heard his voice without really absorbing his words. His brow was furrowed and he was frowning deeply again. Whatever he’d said, he was preparing for a response from Carol, and it was clear that he didn’t expect it to be a good one.

“I ain’t no good at this,” Daryl said. “Any of it.”

“At what?” Carol asked.

“Any of this,” Daryl said sincerely. “The kissin’ or the…whatever…”

“What do you mean you aren’t any good at it?” Carol asked.

Daryl shrugged his shoulders. 

“Don’t know how, OK?” He snapped. 

Very quickly, anger bubbled up in Daryl from out of nowhere. He’d dropped his hand from Carol’s face, otherwise she was pretty sure she might feel it surging through his fingertips like electricity through a live wire. 

But it wasn’t anger. At first, she might have mistaken it for anger, but Carol had seen anger before. In fact, she’d seen every variety of anger—and she knew that anger wasn’t always anger. This time, what she saw in front of her wasn’t anger at all. It was embarrassment. It was the embodiment of feelings of inadequacy. It was fear that she would react in an undesirable way—that she would hurt him—and it was the gathering of the first rudimentary pieces to a foundation for a quickly constructed wall that would shield him from that hurt. 

How she handled this moment would be more defining than nearly anything else that had happened between them since she’d met Daryl, and Carol felt that in her gut.

“It’s OK if you—haven’t done this a lot,” Carol said.

“Never,” Daryl threw at her. It was softer than his previous words. Carol had calmed him down with just the promise that it was OK. 

Carol hadn’t really thought about what Daryl’s experiences might have been with women. At least, she hadn’t thought about it in any great detail. His brother had made a lot of boasts in camp that led Carol to believe that he’d probably known a good deal of women in the biblical sense—though Merle Dixon had been anything but biblical. That thought had been strengthened later by the fact that he’d left a large amount of antibiotics in his motorcycle saddlebags that Daryl explained had been given to him to fight off infections that he might have developed in the company of women who had carried those infections. 

Carol had never thought that Daryl would be interested in the same kinds of interactions that had obviously interested his brother, but she hadn’t thought that he’d have chosen to go entirely in the opposite direction in favor of a celibate lifestyle. 

Daryl was, after all, the kindest man that she’d ever known. He was—in his own way, even though Shane might have disagreed—the gentlest man that Carol had ever known. He might not have been storybook handsome, but he was ruggedly handsome, and the more that Carol got to know him, the more she found him desirable. Everything about Daryl, even though she’d hardly dared to admit it to herself, tugged at parts of her that she’d thought long dead—parts her ex-husband had tried to kill in his own way.

Carol found it difficult to imagine that Daryl hadn’t been able to have his pick of women.

But she didn’t mind that he hadn’t, and that was all that was important to him. All he cared about was knowing how Carol was going to react to the fact that he didn’t know much about what he clearly hoped would happen here—what Carol hoped would happen here. 

“That’s OK,” Carol said, keeping her voice even. She smiled at him again and reached her hand up toward his face again. This time he didn’t flinch. He let her brush her fingers through his hair. He stared at her hard. She felt like he was trying to read her to find out if she was telling him the truth. “There’s not that much to know.”

“Prob’ly do it all wrong,” Daryl said.

Carol’s chest clenched in response. There it was, that crippling self-doubt. She knew it. She felt it. It hurt when she heard it out of the mouth of someone she cared about—someone who never should have felt that way.

“No,” she offered, shaking her head. “You won’t. I promise.”

“You don’t know that,” Daryl said, sounding very much like a child for a moment. Carol swallowed down her laugher. 

“I do,” she said. “I absolutely do know it. Kiss me again, Daryl. If you want…”

He did want. He clearly wanted. And he did kiss her again. Long and hard. This time, there was less gentle and more hunger, but it was clear that he didn’t know what to do with all the hunger. Carol didn’t know what to do with it either. She could practically feel Daryl buzzing with need and want and hunger. 

Nobody had ever wanted her with such raw desire.

Carol pushed away from Daryl to catch her breath. She swallowed it up in a gulp of air and she panted to get her breath where Daryl had taken it from her. He was breathing hard, too, from the efforts that he’d expended in the kissing.

“No good?” Daryl asked. 

“Very good,” Carol offered.

“You just sayin’ that,” Daryl said. 

“I mean that,” Carol said. “But as long as we’re being honest, and as long as we’re coming clean, there’s something you should know, too, Daryl.”

Daryl somewhat backed away, but Carol didn’t hold the little bit of distance gained against him. He was giving her distance to talk to him comfortably. He was giving her space to breath and make her confession. He wasn’t running away from her, and she knew that. 

“I—am not really very good at this, either,” Carol said.

“You were married,” Daryl offered as though that made it clear that she should be some kind of expert on all matters of intercourse.

Carol nodded her head.

“I was,” she said, “and that’s what makes my confession worse.”

“That you didn’t—with your husband?” Daryl asked. “Sophia…”

Carol understood Daryl’s confusion. He thought she was trying to make a confession to him that she wasn’t very good at this because she lacked experience. Maybe he even thought that she was trying to placate him in some way by echoing his story but doing so falsely. She shook her head at him.

“I was married,” she said. “And I’ve slept with my husband many times. Sometimes—because I wanted to and, other times, because—because he wanted to. Or—I guess—because he needed something. Because men need things.” Daryl stared hard at her. She couldn’t read him because his brow was furrowed in concern. She decided she was free to continue. “I guess—the fact that I was married to Ed makes my confession that much worse. You’re—worried because maybe you haven’t had that much experience…”

“None,” Daryl offered. This time it was him who had a soft tone of voice. This time Carol felt like he was trying to figure out how he might soothe her feelings. 

“I have experience,” Carol said, “with Ed. And I have—I have it on his authority that I’m just no good at this. I’m really very bad…at all of it. Bad enough that—Ed said they’d probably grant him a divorce just on those terms if he could make it clear to a court just how bad I am…”

Carol swallowed against the sudden tightening her throat. Of all the things that Ed had done to her over the course of their marriage, it felt foolish to say that, sometimes, it was what he said that hurt the most. Carol thought, with his death, she’d be free from him, but she wasn’t. He was always there. She could push him down, keep him in a place that she made for him in her mind, but he always escaped. As she’d told Daryl, she was no stranger to the voices.

Now, though, the voice was particularly strong. 

“I’m very bad at this,” Carol said. “And—you deserve better than that…”

When Daryl caught her chin and held her face, Carol was sure that he didn’t mean to do so with quite so much strength. Sometimes he was unaware of how strong he was. He lifted her face to him and he stared hard in her eyes before he offered her a crooked smile that just turned up the one side of his lips.

“Hey—listen—I mean—good or bad? It don’t matter much, do it? I—ain’t gonna know the difference.”

Carol couldn’t help but smile. She laughed, even, as the laughter bubbled up inside of her and a small bit of it escaped. Maybe it wasn’t the greatest compliment in the world. Maybe it wasn’t some poetic declaration that she would be incredible, but it was perfect. It wasn’t a lie. Carol didn’t doubt the sincerity of Daryl’s words and she didn’t doubt the truth in them. He wasn’t telling her that she was perfect—only that she was perfect for him.

Carol kissed him again and he wrapped his arms around her. He let his hands explore her—snaking around her body as he kissed her. The kiss was hungry, again, and Carol was sure that the hunger and need she felt from him wouldn’t die down until he’d had the opportunity to release some of it—some of everything he likely had pent up inside him. 

She felt her own need aching between her legs. It took only the kiss to relight the flame there and her body cried out for the feel of him.

She broke the kiss again after a moment and Daryl held tight to her—not stepping away this time—like he feared she might run away or disappear. 

“There’s one more thing,” Carol said.

“You changin’ your mind…” Daryl offered.

“No,” Carol said. “But—you might.”

Daryl let go of her, then, but he didn’t put a great deal of distance between them. Instead, he gave himself just enough space to examine his bandaged fingers in the dark. 

“Wouldn’t count on it,” he huffed. “Can’t feel my fingers…this shit’s gotta go.”

“You could get an infection,” Carol offered.

“Still got antibiotics for me,” Daryl offered. “Take my chances. Besides—they clean. That’s all that really matters.”

“They won’t stay clean,” Carol said.

“Then I’ll wash my hands,” Daryl responded shortly. He was already removing the bandages that Carol had made from rags and dropping them on the ground without concern. He stopped, for just a second, and looked at Carol before he continued. “That weren’t what you was gonna say…”

“I’m not on birth control,” Carol said. “I don’t have—birth control and I don’t have condoms. I don’t have anything.”

Daryl continued shedding the bandages for a moment, freeing one finger at a time.

“I don’t got no kinda thing like that,” Daryl said.

“Probably nobody does,” Carol said.

“So that’s it?” Daryl asked. “I mean—we ain’t got it, we ain’t got it. An’ you don’t wanna—have no kid by me.”

“I didn’t think I could have children,” Carol said. “It was so many years before Sophia. There were other—situations—before she was born. But I just thought…I’d never have a baby.”

“You got Sophia,” Daryl said. 

Carol smiled to herself. 

“I do,” she said. “I have Sophia.”

“An’ you don’t want no more,” Daryl said. “Or—you don’t want none by me?” 

Carol considered his words. The way he said them made her stomach flip. A wave of memories—mostly bad—involving Ed came washing back over her.

Daryl felt like everything that Ed had never been, and it was clear to Carol how different they were. She heard it in nearly every word that he said. 

“I don’t know that there would ever be more than Sophia,” Carol said. “And—they keep telling me this isn’t a world for babies…”

“There ain’t no damn world without babies,” Daryl said. “Unless it just ends with us. Makes Sophia the last human…”

“There will be more babies,” Carol said. “In the world…eventually.”

“You just don’t want there to be one with me…” Daryl said.

“I thought—you might not want one with me,” Carol said. “It’s a big responsibility. I wouldn’t want to put that on you…”

“You mean you wouldn’t care if…it you had one of mine?” Daryl asked.

Carol sucked in a breath and held it. She tried to steady herself. She hoped what she said didn’t scare him. She didn’t want to scare him.

“I wish—Sophia was yours,” Carol said. “So—I wouldn’t mind if…there were more. I believe you would help me to keep them safe. And that would be all that mattered to me. If they were safe…that would be all that mattered.”

By this point, Daryl had freed the fingers that Carol had so lovingly cleaned and bandaged such a short time ago and, despite the fact they possibly ached from where he’d bothered the cuticles while dealing with his feelings over Shane, Daryl returned to harassing his cuticle. 

“Wouldn’t nothin’ stop me,” Daryl said, “from doin’ what I could.”

“I know,” Carol said. “But—it’s a decision that I want you to be able to make.”

Daryl nodded his head at her. He stepped forward and closed the distance that he’d put between them. 

“After all this—you still want me too?” Daryl asked. 

Carol nodded at him. 

“More than—I’ve ever wanted anything before.”


	33. Chapter 33

AN: Here we are, another chapter here. 

I hope that you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

11111111111111111111111111111111111111111111

Some voice in Carol’s mind told her that she should be ashamed of herself. The voice told her that she was a whore and the proof was in the fact that she was offering herself to Daryl—a man that the voice argued she hardly knew. The voice told her that only bad things would come to her and she deserved everything she got.

And Carol ignored the voice long enough to kiss Daryl with everything she had. She held his hands in hers like she feared he might run away, but there was very little effort on his part to run. 

“Where?” He asked.

“The tent?” Carol said with a laugh. “Or by the fire—whichever you prefer.”

“Don’t wanna—bother Sophia,” Daryl said.

“She’s sleeping,” Carol said. “We’ll keep our voices down. She’s a good sleeper. She has to be. And she’s slept through more than this…”

Carol could feel Daryl’s tension. She could feel his insecurity. And that feeling made her that much more determined that she would do anything to make him feel good. She tugged at his hand. 

“Have you changed your mind?” She asked.

“Have you?” He countered.

“I won’t,” Carol assured him. “Come on…”

Carol made her way into the tent first. She lit the camping lantern and tucked it into one distant corner of the tent. Sophia was sleeping on her blanket in the middle of the tent, so Carol moved her and the blanket as far to the side as she could to give them room. The baby didn’t stir much more than to suckle in her sleep at something that wasn’t there, and then she settled back into stillness. Carol smoothed the blankets and Daryl peeked his head in the tent. 

To prove to him that she was still interested, Carol took off her shirt and put it to the side. Her modesty wanted her to keep her clothing on as long as possible. Some distant idea that it was only right for Daryl to remove her clothing told her to keep her clothing on.

Practicality told her that there was always time for such things, but this time Daryl might appreciate things being as simple and straightforward as she could possibly make them. She moved around to rid herself of the rest of her clothes and sat there in the middle of their pallet in the tent.

“I’m a little exposed here,” Carol said. “And—I’m all alone, Daryl.”

He jumped. She saw it and swallowed back the humor that rose up in her. He was staring at her, half-hanging out of the tent, and he hadn’t expected her to speak.

His only response was to follow her into the tent and, as soon as he was inside, to copy her move for move. She watched as he shucked his clothing and tossed it to the side. Even as he was coming out of his clothes, Daryl dived toward her and kissed her lips before he kissed the crook of her neck and her shoulder. She smiled to herself. Maybe he didn’t know how to do whatever he wanted to do—and maybe he couldn’t quite do what he had decided he needed to do—but he certainly knew how to let her know that he desired her. 

And that meant more to Carol than she had even realized it might.

She took his face in her hands and kissed him back. He struggled to try to get free of his pants, so she let go of him and gave him the space he needed. She stared at him, her cheeks burning as her mind chastised her for being so bold as to stare at his body that way, and her pulse kicked up a beat. 

If she’d wondered whether or not he was genuinely interested, that question passed as soon as he was free from his underwear. He grimaced and hissed at himself when he accidentally touched himself while removing his pants. He was rock hard. He was sensitive. He wouldn’t last long, and Carol wouldn’t make things difficult for him.

“Oh,” she hummed quietly as he readjusted himself to get comfortable on the blanket in front of her—looking at her like he needed her to tell him where to go next and what to do.

“Somethin’ wrong?” Daryl asked.

“Everything’s fine,” Carol said. “You—never got picked on in the locker room, did you?” 

“What?” Daryl asked.

“Your—umm…you’re…the size…”

“Too small?” Daryl asked, practically backing up like he might flee the tent. “Merle give me shit…” Carol reached out and caught his arms. She worked his muscles in her hands. She leaned forward to kiss him. 

“Not small for too many women, I imagine,” Carol said with a laugh. “Bigger than Ed was.”

“That bad?” 

“Nothing is bad here, Daryl,” Carol assured him. She changed her position. She decided there was no need to make him wait. She was certain that each passing moment made things more uncomfortable for him—and there would be time for experimentation. Missionary would be easiest for him. It would be nicest for her. For now, it would limit how deep he could go and how quickly he could get there. She took her position and reached out to welcome him to her. 

He came toward her, happily, and kissed her with the same hunger that she’d felt outside the tent. She moved one of his hands to touch her breast and he massaged it before he pulled back like he’d been burned. 

“What’s wrong?” She asked.

“Wet…” Daryl offered.

“Milk,” Carol said. “They might—leak. Is that OK?” 

“It’s Sophia’s…” Daryl said.

Carol laughed to herself.

“I’ll make more,” she assured him. “Is it OK? I can’t help if they leak…”

Daryl’s response was to try to calm her by squeezing her breast again. He ducked his head to kiss her collarbone, and then her chest. He groaned. He was uncomfortable and Carol knew it. She rearranged herself and opened her legs to make herself readily available to him. 

“Come on,” she breathed. “Whenever you’re ready…”

“Don’t you need?” Daryl asked. He let the question trail off. He knew she needed something, or he believed he did, but it was clear that he didn’t know what he believed she might need.

“What?” Carol asked.

“Somethin’ to—prime the pump or…or start the engine or whatever it was…hell it was shit my brother used to say. Don’t’cha need—somethin’?” 

Carol smiled to herself. 

He cared. He didn’t know what she might need, but he wanted her to have whatever it was. He cared whether or not she had what she needed. Ed had never cared. Carol kissed Daryl again and, while she entertained him by teasing his tongue and lips, she took his hand and guided it between her legs. He pulled back from the kiss.

“That’s…”

“I’m wet,” Carol offered. “Very—very wet. The pump or the engine or whatever? Daryl—that’s coming from just how much I want you. You’re all I need right now. So—come on.”

“I don’t know what I’m doin’,” Daryl offered. Carol thought she could practically hear his pulse pick up. He moved to take his position over her. He knew enough, it seemed. 

“Just do what feels good,” Carol said. “If you enjoy it, it’ll be good. I promise. You just—do what feels good to you.” 

Daryl seemed doubtful about whether or not she was telling him the truth. Still, he also seemed unable to fight against it too much. After a stumbled attempt to enter her, Carol helped him find what he was looking for. She didn’t expect him to shift his hips and sink all the way into her at once, but she accepted that he did. And when she gasped at him and asked him for a second to adjust, he allowed her that, kissing her face with worry and concern—a concern that melted quickly when she gave him the permission that he needed to give into his feelings and move however nature drove him to move. 

His movements were fast and hard and a little erratic. Carol tried to move with him for the first few thrusts, but finally she simply gave herself over to him. It wasn’t long before he was pressing his head against her shoulder and grunting with satisfaction as he shivered and stilled against her. A second later, he pulled away from her, panting, and sat on the blanket beside her. 

She immediately came to him and caressed his face. She kissed his cheek and his jaw. She ran her fingers gently over his skin and through his hair. She captured his lips and accepted the kiss that he gave her in return. 

Slowly he got control of his breathing. He calmed and seemed to return to himself. The hunger he’d put out before seemed somewhat satiated for the time being. 

“Was it good?” Carol asked.

He hummed at her and nodded his head. 

“Was it for you?” He asked.

“Yeah,” she assured him, nodding her head.

“You wouldn’t lie,” Daryl said. His tone of voice said that he was sure she was lying. “You didn’t get what’cha need. What’cha want. Lasted thirty fuckin’ seconds. Weren’t long enough for you to hardly know more’n I was in there.”

“It’s OK. It was your first time. And I got everything I wanted,” Carol assured him with a laugh. “But if you want to give me more…”

He nodded.

Carol took his hand and pressed it between her legs. She used his fingers to find the sensitive nub that held the key to bringing her to climax. She pressed his fingers against it and, with her own, she worked his fingers to show him how she liked to be touched. She showed him how much pressure she liked. She showed him the kind of movement she enjoyed. She let him hear her satisfied moans and gasps, and it wasn’t long before she was able to move her fingers because his desire to keep pleasing her took over and he took control. 

He obeyed, well, commands like “faster” and “harder.” He kissed her—peppering her shoulders and collarbones and breasts with the kisses—while he continued the movement that she’d taught him, and by the time that she came, panting and deeply satisfied, he was already growing hard again from simply watching her.

“That all it takes?” He asked. His voice was deep and throaty—more so than she’d ever heard it before. His eyes were nearly glazed over.

“That’s all it takes,” Carol said. “But—combine it all together and…”

“You mean do that while?” 

“I never have,” Carol admitted. “I never even—I never showed Ed what I liked.”

“You didn’t want him to know?” Daryl asked. “Like a secret?” 

“He didn’t care,” Carol responded. “I’ve never…combined them. But…”

“I wanna…” Daryl breathed out. He didn’t have to tell her what he wanted. He was practically on top of her before he got the words out. He was kissing her and, soon, she felt the weight of him against her belly. His newfound enthusiasm for what he’d learned to do that night had him ready again. When his hand reached down to help him find her opening, Carol spread her legs to give him access—and this time she was ready for him when he found his way and sunk entirely into her with a hard thrust. Immediately his fingers went back to her already sensitive nub and she replaced his fingers with her own before she encouraged him to satisfy his hunger as well. He didn’t have to do it all alone, after all.

This time, it took longer. This time, he paced himself a bit more. He was no longer like a starving man in a feeding frenzy at a buffet. This time, Carol moved with him and enjoyed the friction of their bodies—delicious friction created by both of them—instead of simply feeling like she was receiving whatever it was he needed to give her. 

And, this time, she found release not long after he did—thanks to his efforts to make sure that she got what she wanted from his newly learned skill of correctly applied pressure and movement.

When he collapsed, this time, Carol was sure he was done for the night. She was tired, too, and it wouldn’t be long before Sophia woke and demanded care and milk and nighttime attention. Exhausted, Carol curled against Daryl’s body. He lie, on his back, with his eyes closed. She kissed the side of his face.

“Was it what you wanted it to be?” Carol asked. Daryl hummed. 

“More,” he offered. “You ain’t—disappointed?” 

Carol laughed to herself. 

“It was more than I ever expected,” she said. “More than—I’ve ever experienced. You could never disappoint me.”

“I still don’t think—I don’t think I know what I’m doin’,” Daryl offered.

“I think—you’ve got a pretty good idea,” Carol assured him. “But—there’s plenty of time. And plenty we can learn together. If you’re not—too disappointed with me, that is.”

“Didn’t have any expectations,” Daryl said. “Pretty damn hard to disappoint someone who ain’t expectin’ nothin’ in particular.”

“But you—enjoyed it?” Carol asked, her stomach tightening. 

Daryl rubbed his hand over her arm and kissed her face. He curled into her as much as she’d curled into him. It was the first time he was drawing this close to her without the excuse of keeping warm or simply being too crowded to allow them personal space.

She liked the sensation of his body against hers.

“Best I ever had,” he offered with a laugh. “In a minute—I’ma go make sure the fire’s out. You get some sleep—don’t’cha worry no more tonight.”


	34. Chapter 34

AN: Here we are, another chapter here. 

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

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Sophia seemed capable of predicting the moment that Carol settled down to sleep, and she seemed to see that as the exact moment when she most needed nurturing and care from her mother. Carol felt like she spent most of the night nursing Sophia, changing her, and trying to get her back to sleep. When she’d finally gotten the little girl back to sleep and had the opportunity to lie down herself, she’d fallen asleep quickly and deeply—completely exhausted from the events of the past twenty-four hours.

When Carol woke up, she immediately knew that it was late. It was, at the very least, later than she normally woke. The sun was up, even if it wasn’t high in the sky, and she usually woke while it was still dark.

Sophia slept soundly on the blanket beside her. 

Other than that, Carol was alone.

Immediately, Carol’s stomach flipped over the realization that Daryl was gone from the tent. He’d left, and he hadn’t told her that he was going. He hadn’t woken her for breakfast. He’d simply left the tent.

Carol feared the worse. The voice that she’d been able to ignore a little the night before was back and it was back with a vengeance. Before she could wash herself quickly with the cool water from one of the buckets that sat outside their tent and dress in clean clothes, she was already convinced that Daryl was gone. Not only was he gone, but he’d never return to the group. He had probably struck out on his own to avoid ever seeing her again. She was sure that his regret over what they’d done—what those “needs” that men had and couldn’t control had driven him to do—would drive him to do practically anything to avoid her. Or—and such a thing might be even worse—he would remain in the group, but he would simply avoid her and ignore her presence.

Carol would hate to be without Daryl, but she was sure that she would hate, even more, to have to live with him and never be able to interact with him. 

By the time she had a sleeping Sophia strapped into the sling—the baby barely disturbed by movement when she was determined to have a few more moments of sleep—the voice had practically convinced Carol that there was no other explanation for Daryl’s absence beyond the fact that he’d come to his senses in the early hours of the morning and had fled from the scene of his poor choices.

She was worked up enough that tears were blurring her vision as she started across the farmyard. So much so, that she almost ran squarely into Daryl. To avoid colliding with her, Daryl side stepped quickly, barking out something of a warning noise, as he struggled to keep from dropping the plates he held in either hand.

“Somethin’ on fire?” Daryl asked. 

Carol stopped and stared at him. She blinked out a few of the tears that were welling up in her eyes and she quickly wiped them away when they ran down her cheeks. Daryl looked at her, brow-furrowed, like she was a creature that he was struggling to understand and hadn’t had the opportunity to study much before.

“You OK?” He asked.

Carol’s stomach ached and she felt foolish. Still, even though she realized that she’d overreacted and the voice had simply lied to her, she wasn’t able to immediately rid herself of the sinking feeling that Daryl had regretted his decision and was gone forever.

She nodded at him.

“I didn’t know—where you went,” Carol said.

She’d wiped away most of the tears and sucked back the formation of others. Without the tears, she was clearly a little less confusing to Daryl, but his brow was still furrowed. He took her statement as a question, though, and gestured back toward the farmhouse with his head.

“Went out to piss this mornin’ an’ I remembered that I didn’t never do nothin’ with that deer,” Daryl said. “I’da hated for all that meat to go to waste, so I went to see what had happened to it. Run into Patricia. Gatherin’ eggs. Anyway—she’d got that boy…Jacob or James or…”

“Jimmy,” Carol offered.

“Whatever,” Daryl said dismissively. “Deer got cleaned and cooked up. Everyone must have descended on it like a pack of wolves ‘cause that weren’t no little deer. Mostly gone now. She was cookin’ up what was left this mornin’ with eggs.” He gestured toward the plates he was holding, raising them up to draw attention to them in case Carol had missed them in the excitement of everything else. “Deer an’ eggs. Breakfast.” 

Carol laughed to herself.

“For me?” She asked.

“Sophia’s welcome to gnaw on whatever them two little half-made teeth of hers has a chance at chewing,” Daryl said. “But I figured the most of it would be for you.” 

“You—went to get me breakfast?” Carol asked.

“I went to see about the deer,” Daryl said. “To be honest, the breakfast was just a good surprise.”

“You didn’t wake me, and you didn’t tell me where you were going,” Carol said. 

“You were sleeping,” Daryl said. “And Sophia had you up most the night.”

“You always—you always tell me where you’re going,” Carol said.

“And I don’t hardly recall a time you weren’t awake when I was goin’ somewhere,” Daryl said. He stopped speaking abruptly, sucked in a breath, and then looked at Carol with a renewed expression of confusion. “Did I do somethin’ wrong? That why you was upset?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Carol said. She shook her head. She reached for one of the plates to help Daryl, but he moved it in such a way as to make it clear that he intended to keep carrying it. He used the plate that he’d kept out of her grasp to gesture toward the tent. She understood that he meant for her to walk that way, so she turned and did just what he’d silently requested.

“You gonna tell me why you were crying?” Daryl asked as they walked. “If it weren’t me…”

“It was me,” Carol said. “It was…my own head.”

“Voices?” Daryl asked.

Carol laughed to herself. He’d asked the question with absolute sincerity. There hadn’t been any teasing to his tone. He followed along, just to her side and behind her, as they made their way back to the tent that they were calling home. She arranged some towels on the ground before she offered to take the plates for him to sit. He produced silverware—tightly bound in handkerchiefs—from his pocket and offered her those bundles as well. As soon as he was seated, Carol gave him everything she’d accepted from him, freed Sophia from her wrap, and sat down with the baby who decided she was furious over the injustice of having been disturbed again—the baby that was going to demand that Carol do something to make sure that she was entertained before she even dreamed of eating her meal. 

Carol didn’t speak to Daryl, again, until she’d arranged a blanket on the ground for Sophia and plopped her daughter down in the middle of it so that she could crawl around and play with the few toys that Carol scattered there for her. 

She accepted her plate and fork from Daryl with a soft thanks.

“It’s cold,” Daryl said.

“It’ll be fine,” Carol assured him. “You know…I’ve—got to stop talking to you about voices or you’re going to start thinking I’m crazy.”

“You think I’m crazy?” Daryl asked. Carol didn’t have to answer him with words. A gentle shake of her head answered his question. “I hear—hell—I hear ‘em a lot. Rooster. Merle. My mama, sometimes…but she’s usually got kinda nice things to say. Might make you think I’m outta my head. Might make you—run outta here as fast as you can. But I’ve even…seen ‘em. I saw Merle. The day I went for the medicine for Soph. Talked to him.”

“You had a pretty significant head injury,” Carol offered.

“My point is,” Daryl said, “that we all hear shit that we don’t really hear. And if that makes us crazy, then I bet damn near everybody is runnin’ around crazy.” Carol hummed at him, but she didn’t speak. She pretended her full focus was on chewing her way through several bites of the food. “Was it Ed?”

“I guess,” Carol said.

“There someone else in there?” Daryl asked. “Someone else I—oughta know about?” 

“Sometimes it’s my own voice, I think,” Carol said. “Just—it’s just that it’s not always nice to me. Even if it is me.”

Daryl laughed to himself.

“Fuck if I don’t know that one,” Daryl said. Carol frowned at him. He’d crammed a great deal of food into his mouth with an overloaded forkful and he chewed through it quickly. As soon as he’d swallowed half of it, the other half still waiting its turn, he spoke to her again. “Was it me that it was talkin’ about?” Carol nodded her head and Daryl nodded his to mirror her movement. He hummed at her and finished choking down the oversized bite of food. “’Cause you was wishin’ you hadn’t…”

“No,” Carol said quickly and firmly. She didn’t want to leave any doubt in Daryl’s mind. She knew, after all, how hurtful such doubt could be. “Not at all. It was—well, really it was…that I thought you might have changed your mind.”

“Why would I?” Daryl asked.

“Why would I?” Carol countered. “Maybe—it doesn’t make sense, but it feels like it does. In the moment. I woke up and you were gone and I just thought…you were gone. Really gone. For good. Forever. Or worse than that.” 

“What’d be worse than that?” Daryl asked.

“That you’d be here but—you’d be gone from me,” Carol admitted. She shook her head at him. “I don’t have any claim to you but…it’s just how I felt.”

Daryl paid more attention to his food than the plate really merited. Carol chewed through a few bites of her food, but she was mostly concerned with choking down enough to satisfy Daryl. He’d accept her leftovers if she gave them to him, but only when he felt that she’d had enough to keep herself going and to make milk for Sophia—two concerns that he expressed at nearly every meal where he felt she tried to get away with eating less than her fair share of the food provided.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Daryl said. “Not—not for good, at least. I mean…I might go hunting or…or to get something if we need it. But I won’t go anywhere for good. So, if that’s something that worries you…”

Carol smiled at him. He smiled at her, too, though he quickly turned his attention back to the food to try to hide the smile. 

“I’m glad you’re not going anywhere,” Carol said. “I wouldn’t want you to leave.”

“If I did—leave, I mean—it’d be with you. And Sophia. I wouldn’t leave the two of you behind,” Daryl amended.

“I think that’s fair,” Carol said.

“If you wanted to go with me,” Daryl said. “Like you said—I got no kinda claim. It would be up to you if you wanted to go with me.”

“I think—we would,” Carol said.

“I think you oughta say it, too,” Daryl said. “Just—as a thing.”

“Say what?” Carol asked.

“That you ain’t gonna leave,” Daryl said. 

He looked at her out the corner of his eye. It was more than just a passing glance. He was watching her to gauge her reaction. His whole demeanor changed in a fraction of a second. Carol offered him the best reassuring smile she could. She reached a hand over to give Sophia the toy she was squalling over—a toy that she could have reached with a little effort—and then she smiled at Daryl again.

“Is that something that really worries you, Daryl?” Carol asked. “That I would—leave? That I would just—take Sophia and leave?” 

Daryl shrugged his shoulders. 

“There’s different kinds of leaving, I guess,” he offered. 

Carol felt the impact of his words in her gut and she understood exactly what he was saying. He might not necessarily be concerned that she’d take her baby and walk away from the farm on her own, but he was concerned that she would leave him in another way. 

She’d felt the same concern when she’d worried that Daryl might stay on the farm but decide to ignore her very existence.

She reached her hand over and rested it affectionately on Daryl’s arm.

“I won’t leave,” she promised him. “And if I do—I’ll be going with you.” She winked at Daryl and his cheeks blushed pink. “Will that be fine with you?” She asked.

Daryl cleared his throat. He scraped the last bite of food from his plate and stuffed it in his mouth.

“It would be alright with me,” he said. “If—it’s what’cha want.”

Carol didn’t say anything else about the matter. She was sure they’d revisit it later. Perhaps, knowing the number of voices that the two of them contended with, they’d revisit it many times and in many different forms. There was nothing else to say at the moment. 

Carol offered Daryl her plate and he tried to push it back.

“I don’t want it,” Carol said. “And Sophia’s going to prefer a jar of baby food when I get in there to feed her.”

“You oughta eat it,” Daryl said. “Protein’s good for you an’ you gotta make her some milk.”

“I’ve had plenty,” Carol said. “Really,” she assured him. Somewhat reluctantly, Daryl accepted the plate and put his own empty plate underneath it. Carol smiled at him when he started eating and he raised his eyebrows in question. “I just—appreciate—that you worry about me,” Carol said. “And that you worry about Sophia.” 

Daryl leaned around her to look at the baby who was sitting on the blanket, gnawing on a rubber toy. He smiled to himself and then looked back at Carol. She very nearly shivered at the intensity of his expression.

“Always,” he said just before turning to back to his food to make it clear that he considered there to be nothing more to say on the matter.

And for the time being, Carol respected his wishes. She didn’t say anything. She simply offered him a smile and a gentle squeeze of the arm before she got up to get a jar of baby food from their supply tent.


	35. Chapter 35

AN: Here we are, another chapter here. 

This one is a long one. I didn’t have anywhere to cut it.

There’s also a warning here for reference to domestic violence, some slight depictions of violence against women (nothing too brutal, but I still like to mention it for some people’s triggers), and some unwanted sexual suggestion/tension (though I will say that it’s suggestion/tension and nothing really happens). 

I hope you enjoy the chapter. Let me know what you think.

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There were always things to do and Carol wanted, more than anything, to be sure that they contributed plenty to the farm to help make sure that Hershel Greene didn’t want to force them off his property—which he had every right to do. 

They barely finished breakfast before Daryl went off to check some snares he’d set in the woods with the young man—Jimmy—in tow to help him carry back whatever he found. Carol immediately gathered as much of the mountain of laundry together as she was sure would hang on the clothes lines they’d strung some distance from the camp, and she’d set to washing it with Andrea’s assistance, since everyone else seemed otherwise employed.

They heated the water at the fire near Carol and Daryl’s tent, and they washed the clothes only a few feet from there where they could easily dump the dirty water into the field. Andrea entertained Carol while they worked and Carol watched Andrea because she worried about the fact that the woman, though recovered a great deal from the illness she’d suffered, simply didn’t bounce back with the same speed that Sophia had. Andrea still got winded simply scrubbing a shirt, but she continued to scrub them despite the fact that a small handful of clothes left her breathing like she’d just run a marathon.

By the time they’d finished all the clothes that their lines were likely to hold, and had piled all the wet clothes in baskets to be hung, Daryl and Jimmy had reappeared on the property. Even from the significant distance between where they were and the rest of the camp, Carol could see that they’d gotten a deer in addition to the rabbits and raccoons that Daryl had expected from the snares.

She saw Patricia cross the yard to greet them, and she saw Rick cross the yard as well. Patricia, more than likely, was concerned about the food, but Rick would probably have more interest in something he wanted to discuss with Daryl.

“You want to talk about it?” Andrea asked.

Carol snatched her head back in Andrea’s direction. For just a moment, she’d almost forgotten that the only thing that separated her from the blonde was the distance of the metal tub between the two foldable chairs they sat in. 

Andrea was smirking at her and Carol immediately felt her face run warm. She smiled to herself and looked away to smile at Sophia who was playing happily on her blanket in the shade nearby. 

“What exactly do you think there is to talk about?” Carol asked.

“If there’s nothing to talk about, there should be,” Andrea said. “I saw them, too, when they came out of the woods. The first thing he did was look over here. Scan the area. Find you. The first thing you did…”

“You saw them, too,” Carol said. She wasn’t genuinely trying to fight back, though, and Andrea knew that. “It’s only natural that—we’re accustomed to looking where the movement is. Especially near the woods.”

“Fine,” Andrea said. “You keep your secrets. For now. But I’m telling you, it’s not much of a secret. Everyone knows it if they’re not just too wrapped up in themselves to see what’s happening around them.”

Carol smiled to herself. She knew that everyone saw it. At least, they saw something. There was no secret that where Daryl went, Carol happily followed. And Carol, too, often found herself with a shadow if she struck off alone too long to do something. She enjoyed Daryl’s company, though, and he seemed to enjoy hers.

He didn’t seem to mind who knew it, either, even if he didn’t exactly walk around crowing about it all day long. Carol preferred it that way.

Everyone saw it, even if they didn’t know that she could still feel him when she closed her eyes and tried to conjure up the sensations of him touching her. 

Carol had never had a girlfriend to share that kind of talk before. She’d never had much that she wanted to share, honestly. The closest she’d come was a little giggling and conversation over vibrators with Andrea at the rock quarry in Georgia. A part of her ached to simply tell the blonde everything—or maybe not quite everything. She would never tell anyone that it had been Daryl’s first time. She was sure he might be sensitive about such things. Nobody needed to know that she took his virginity. All she needed to share was that it was the best she’d ever felt with a man, and she was still buzzing from it. 

But she could hold it for now. She smiled at Andrea.

“For now,” Carol said. Andrea narrowed her eyes at her, but there was no real venom in the expression.

“Fine,” Andrea said. “Suit yourself.”

“Go get something to drink,” Carol said. “Sit in the shade.”

“I’ll help you hang the clothes,” Andrea said. 

“You’ve helped enough. I’ll come and get you when these are dry and we’re ready to wash again. Go sit in the shade. Don’t use up all your energy right away.”

Andrea accepted what Carol said. She got out of the chair, offered Carol a hand to get out of her chair, more as a gesture of friendship than of actual real assistance, and stopped by the blanket to coo over Sophia a moment before she walked back toward the populated area of the camp to get water from the RV and satisfy Dale by staying still and in his sight—working her way through a book that she’d been reading to pass the time it took for her lungs to heal.

Carol checked on her daughter and then cast another glance toward the people who were milling about. Everyone that she could see at least appeared to be busy doing something. Near the woods, some distance away, Daryl and Rick were engaged in what appeared to be a serious conversation. Daryl stood, listening, with his hands on his hips. Rick gestured somewhat wildly with his words. From Daryl’s posture, Carol could tell that, however serious the conversation, it was really nothing she needed to be concerned about. It was something that immediately involved Rick more than anyone else. 

Carol moved Sophia and her blanket closer to the clothes lines so that she could see her with a quick glance no matter where she was among the hanging clothes, and then she set to work pinning up items to dry. It was easy work and there was something relaxing about it. Carol could really let her mind wander while she hung the clothes, and it didn’t take long before she lost herself in the rhythm and repetition of it all. 

Carol didn’t hear anything except the satisfied sounds of Sophia who was trying out the different octaves of her voice while she babbled and played.

Carol sucked in a shocked breath when she turned from hanging one item to tug another from the basket beside her and practically ran into a wall of Shane Walsh. There was something about Shane that usually sped up Carol’s pulse—and not in a good way—but whatever it was that usually affected her was amplified at the moment.

There was something in Shane’s eyes and the way that he carried his body that told Carol this hadn’t been the best morning for Shane. She could feel the tension radiating off of him. She could smell something, too. A faint odor that told her Shane may have already tried to douse a few of his tensions in something that smelled like cheap whiskey. The smell, itself, turned Carol’s stomach a little. Shane was unpredictable and, at that moment, he felt even more unpredictable.

Carol realized what it was that kicked her pulse up a notch. By now, her instincts knew to be very afraid of unpredictable men. 

Carol glanced at Sophia. The baby was fine. She was blissfully unaware of anything that was going on that didn’t involve the rubber dinosaur that was soothing her teething complaints for the moment. Shane hadn’t touched her and, even though he was between Carol and her baby, she was determined that he wouldn’t touch her—no matter what he had in mind.

“Shhh…” Shane hissed. He held his hands up to Carol to try to calm her from the surprised of seeing him there when she didn’t expect it. “It’s alright. I just need to talk to you, Carol.” His voice had the assumed softness that they must have taught police officers everywhere. Carol had heard it every time that someone had been called to her house to handle a problem between she and Ed. 

“I don’t know much we need to talk about,” Carol offered. “Your laundry will be done with everyone else’s.”

“This isn’t about laundry,” Shane said. Carol already knew that, but she pretended to be surprised. Shane seemed to relax a little. He smiled at her. Even his smile made her hair stand up. He reached both hands out and affectionately rested them on her shoulder. The weight of them there reminded her of when Ed would do something similar—especially in public—to remind her. Just to remind her. 

“I don’t know anything else I need to talk about,” Carol offered. She glanced toward Sophia. She knew the baby was fine, but she needed to reassure herself again that she was still content to chew on her dinosaur. Shane followed her glance. He smiled at Sophia again.

“She’s a pretty little girl, Carol,” Shane said. “Like her Mama.” One of the hands left her shoulder and touched her cheek. Suddenly her breathing felt as labored as Andrea’s had sounded. She hoped she was misreading signals, but she had a feeling that she wasn’t. 

“She’s alive,” Carol said. “Thanks to Daryl.” 

The barb struck Shane. She saw it on his face. He wasn’t happy with the words, but he was able to erase that quickly. Being a cop seemed to have taught both him and Rick how to do that—their expressions and the moods they radiated could change in an instant. That made them both unpredictable.

“I know you think he’s some kind of savior,” Shane said.

“He saved Sophia,” Carol countered.

“And I know you’re thankful for that,” Shane said. “But—you don’t know what kind of man he is, Carol. I’ve seen men like that. Years on the force—do you know how many men like Daryl I’ve seen?”

“I’ve never seen anyone like him,” Carol offered. “But I have seen a lot of police officers.”

“Always saving you from Ed,” Shane said.

“Always sending me right back out into things—with an apology and a piece of paper,” Carol said. “Paper might beat rock, but…it never beat Ed.” 

The squeeze he gave her shoulder was meant, perhaps, to feel good. It was meant, perhaps, to relieve some of her tension. It felt more ominous than anything. 

“I stopped him for you,” Shane said. “You remember that, Carol? I stopped him for you. That was for you.” 

“If he had lived…” Carol said.

“I would have stopped him again,” Shane said. “Because I wanted to protect you. Even then.” He glanced back toward Sophia again. He smiled in her direction and let the smile stay on his lips as he turned back to Carol, one hand still resting on her shoulder. He moved his thumb, brushing the pad of it across the skin at her collarbone and neck. “You have a beautiful daughter. And you’re that kind of woman, Carol. I know what kind of woman you are…”

Carol focused on her breathing. 

Something had happened. Carol didn’t know what, but something had happened with Lori. 

And with Andrea somewhere between dead and fully alive, Shane had already cut her loose and left her for dead. He’d discarded whatever it was that had bubbled up between them and lasted for little more than the time it had taken him to relieve some tension. Everybody knew about it, of course, but nobody talked about it. The practice wasn’t uncommon in their group.

So Shane was there, between rows of hanging laundry, with his hand on Carol’s shoulder. He was caressing her neck with his thumb—something that felt like he meant it to be both familiar and a warning. 

“I don’t think you know what kind of woman I am,” Carol said. 

His fingers pressed into the back of her shoulder as he flexed his hand. She saw his jaw tense. He wasn’t used to not getting what he wanted at the very moment he wanted it. Like a spoiled child, he didn’t handle it well. 

Carol knew that most men had a little child still trapped within them. She’d met them in various moods and she’d found the little boys wanting and needing different things. She knew, too, what happened when spoiled little boys trapped in men’s bodies threw tantrums. 

Shane’s thumb brushed her throat. It was a gentle touch, but she was aware of the size of his hand next to her windpipe. 

“You’re the kind of woman that has a beautiful little girl,” Shane said. “Probably—wants a family. A husband. A few more kids?” Carol didn’t respond to him. She set her jaw and waited him out. “Daryl’s not that kind of man. He’s not a family man, Carol. He’s volatile.” Carol resisted the urge to tell Shane that she feared his volatility a great deal more than Daryl’s. She found Daryl’s somewhat predictable. “You see how he—runs off when he can’t handle things. You think he’s going to be able to handle everything? Everything this world throws at him? This isn’t a world for a man like Daryl and he’s never going to be able to survive it. He certainly won’t be able to keep a family alive.” 

“He’s already surviving it,” Carol said. 

“He won’t be able to do what he needs to do to keep you safe,” Shane said. “Sophia. He won’t keep you safe.” 

“But you—will?” Carol asked, her stomach churning.

“I’m a family man,” Shane said. “Deep down.” 

“I bet you are,” Carol thought. “As long as it’s someone else’s family.” She didn’t dare to say the words, though. The boy was beginning to escape. She caught glimpses of him in Shane’s tight jaw and the vein in his forehead. Carol didn’t say anything. She didn’t say anything until the hand tightened to hold her in place, the other found her face and, before she could even try to pull herself free, Shane’s lips were on hers. “Get off me!” She struggled to get out from behind the force of his lips. She shoved him as hard as she could and he stepped back a half a step, but he didn’t let go of her. She pulled at his wrists, trying to fully free herself. Now her heart was thundering in her chest. 

“Carol—you gotta listen to me,” Shane said.

“I don’t have to listen to anything!” Carol said. 

One of his hands released her only enough to quickly grab at the back her head. He discovered quickly the same thing that Ed had discovered when she’d shaved her head the first time. There was nothing to hold onto and she twisted to try to slip his grip. She was better at that, after all, than most women. She had more practice. 

He caught her arm as she slipped away and snatched her back, twisting her shoulder. She cried out, but he muffled most of it by getting his hand over her mouth and holding her tight against his body. 

Shane was stronger than Ed had been.

Carol struggled to talk against his hand, but he simply held her. As she stopped struggling, his hold loosened, so she forced herself to relax. She forced herself to breathe as well as she could with his hand clamped over her face. As she grew still and quiet, he loosened his grip a bit more and pressed his face against hers so that his breath blew right against his ear. She could smell what he had drank on his breath.

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” Shane said.

The words made Carol’s stomach turn and she swallowed against the sudden urge to vomit. 

She tried to speak against his hand again, and Shane slid his fingers down her face slowly. She knew that he was doing that so he could clasp his hand over her mouth again, quickly, if the need arose. He was giving her some freedom, but not too much. 

“Please,” Carol said, keeping her voice low, “don’t hurt Sophia.” 

Shane laughed. It wasn’t genuine. He was struck, perhaps. He returned his face to the position that it had held a moment before.

“I’m not going to hurt Sophia. I don’t want to hurt anyone. Carol—I’m talking to you for your own good. I only want you to listen to me. That’s all I want…”

The force with which he was holding her told her that she would listen to him or choose to have her shoulder broken or dislocated in an attempt to escape. Even as he spoke, he tightened his hold on her arm. His hand came back up to tickle the skin at her throat in an overly-familiar way and she felt him press his lips against her neck. She imagined, held tight against him, that she could feel something else—but she pushed it out of her mind. 

“Daryl is bad for you,” Shane said. “He can’t do what needs to be done. You need someone who—can do what needs to be done. He’s willing to let you and Sophia both live right up under more Walkers than you can even count. He’s willing to let them tear you both apart because he’s too afraid—he’s too damn afraid—to save you.” 

Carol sucked in a breath. She filled her lungs with air now that his hand was away from her mouth. 

“But you would save me,” Carol said. “Us.”

She felt Shane relax a little. The little boys always liked to hear what they wanted to hear.

“I would,” Shane said. He brushed his lips against her neck again. This time he nuzzled her. He nipped her ear. Instead of jerking away in disgust, Carol swallowed against that disgust and forced herself to hum at him like she enjoyed the touch.

“You want a family,” Carol said. “You want to be—a family man.” 

“I could give you what you need to have a family, Carol,” Shane offered. 

Carol closed her eyes. Shane wasn’t entirely lying. He did want to be a family man. That much was clear. The problem was that he hadn’t found someone to build a family with—someone who didn’t already have a family. And, now, Carol was almost certain that part of the problem was that it likely didn’t take women very long to figure out that there was something to Shane that he kept hidden when it was convenient. She bit her lip against the pain radiating through her shoulder. 

“Families are dangerous,” Carol said. “Babies cry. The Walkers…”

“The world’s going on, Carol,” Shane said. He practically growled it into her ear. “Babies are part of life. They just keep coming.” 

Something had changed his mind dramatically since he’d given speeches about Sophia’s loudness. Suddenly, it seemed, Shane was looking for a family—a woman, a child perhaps, and a maybe even a vessel to carry more. And someone had already angered the child inside him.

“The Walkers,” Carol said.

She didn’t have to say more.

“Daryl won’t do what needs to be done to keep you safe,” Shane said. “Nobody will. The whole place is at risk because of a barn full of Walkers.”

“But you will…”

“I’ll get rid of them,” Shane said. “Then we’ll go. Find something better.”

“Everyone…”

“Doesn’t matter,” Shane said. “Not a damn one of ‘em would do what they need to do to save themselves. If they want to die, we have to let them die. We can’t stay here, though.” 

“Why me?” Carol asked.

Shane was silent for a half a minute. He hadn’t prepared an answer to that question. Maybe he didn’t even know the answer. More than likely, the answer was too practical and he didn’t want to give it because it wouldn’t do much for winning her over. Rick was back and had taken Lori away from Shane—not that she was ever rightfully his to begin with. He’d gotten what he wanted from Andrea, and he’d given her up for dead before requesting more. Without being fully healed, there was too much risk that she would simply die and leave him alone if he took her away from there. Patricia was newly widowed and there was much of the story with her husband that felt like it had never been told. Hershel probably wouldn’t hesitate to unload a double barrel shotgun into Shane for his troubles if he touched his daughters.

Carol was the only one left. And she would do. She had everything he needed to build a fantasy.

But that didn’t sound poetic.

“It was always you,” Shane offered. Carol might have laughed if her brain wasn’t firing a thousand miles a minute with every other possible thought that she could have. 

“Let me go,” Carol said.

His grip only tightened and Carol saw spots before her eyes. Her knees buckled slightly. He didn’t know how many times that shoulder had been injured—or maybe he did. She panted against the pain. 

“You have to listen to me,” Shane said. 

“I do,” Carol said. “I am…I…need to get Sophia. I want to…the Walkers. When you open the barn? I need to keep her…”

“Safe,” Shane said.

“Keep her safe,” Carol echoed. He loosened his grip. “And you’ll keep me safe.”

He turned her around. He let go of her arm in that position and he turned her around. He caught the upper part of her arms to hold her in front of him, fingertips digging into her skin, but she had more freedom.

“I can do what needs to be done,” he said. 

And Carol nodded her belief and let him kiss her. For a second, she returned the kiss with everything she had. She returned the kiss like she meant it. Because he relaxed into the kiss. He trusted the kiss. He believed it. He loosened his hold on her because a woman that kissed him with that much conviction was his—to have and to hold and to do with as he pleased.

That was the difference between Ed and Shane. Shane wasn’t as well-practiced as Ed had been. He didn’t know the tricks.

He never even saw the hard knee to his groin coming before Carol had dropped him to the ground. 

She screamed even as she dodged him, making sure he couldn’t grab at her. She screamed as she scooped up Sophia against the protests of her arms and shoulders—her screams scaring the baby who didn’t realize anything was going on—and she screamed as she ran back toward the camp to draw the attention of everyone who had never realized there was anything going on just outside of their immediate surroundings.

She screamed until Daryl stopped her, his arms wrapping around she and Sophia both in a very different way than Shane’s had. 

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AN: I know it’s a heavy chapter. Things will somewhat go with canon, but of course they won’t go exactly with canon. There’s will be a few things to unpack from that, but there’s also going to be a lot more than happens as we move closer to the end of our time on the farm.

Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think!


	36. Chapter 36

AN: Here we are, another chapter here.

Please remember that this is big sort of arc (I guess that’s what you’d call it) that we’re kind of stepping into here and it won’t all be cleaned up within the span of one chapter.

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!

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Carol couldn’t even begin to put the words together properly in order to explain what had happened before Shane drew the whole group’s the attention to himself. Carol’s head was swimming with the adrenaline rush of having gotten away from him. Her heart was still pounding, her breathing hadn’t evened out, and the blood was rushing in her ears. For a split second, she almost felt like she was outside of herself and the entire thing had happened to someone else. She almost felt like, even then, she was only halfway inside her body.

But as she calmed enough to begin to stammer out some explanation of what had happened to her—something to help them understand that it hadn’t been a Walker or some other predatory animal that had spooked her— and as she’d started to realize that her screaming had successfully drawn the attention of nearly everyone, with the crowd now gathering around her and probably expecting an explanation that wasn’t at all like the one she had to offer, Shane had yelled at them to make sure they heard him.

He wanted to make sure that they saw him.

Carol saw him, too.

Shane was yelling at them, moving toward the barn. Almost entirely out of instinct, they all started to move in that direction. Even Carol moved with them and forgot that she meant to tell them what had happened.

Carol didn’t know if the duffle bag that Shane carried had been on the ground nearby the clothes line or where he’d left it. She hadn’t noticed it when she’d run away from him, but she’d been so wrapped up in the thought of getting away from him and getting Sophia away from him, that she could have very well stepped over the thing without even realizing that it was there. 

Carrying the large bag slung over his shoulder, and yelling out as loudly as he could and more than a little erratically, Shane shuffled in the direction of the barn with movements that resembled those of a rabid and wounded animal.

Carol was a little disappointed to see that, though her knee had surely made its mark, it hadn’t been enough to cripple him for as long as she might have hoped.

She moved instinctively with everyone else, especially when she realized that Shane was yelling about the Walkers. He was yelling about the barn. He was yelling about the fact that none of them were man enough to save themselves and, for that, they were all going to die because they were living in the dangerous path of Walkers.

Carol’s heart was pounding—now for more reason than it had been before. She was almost certain that Shane was more dangerous than a chained barn full of Walkers.

“Don’t you do it!” Daryl yelled, breaking entirely away from Carol and the rest of the group as he realized what Shane was doing. He bolted in Shane’s direction, but there was a fair amount of ground left for him to cover before he reached the man.

“Don’t do it! Brother! Shane!” Rick yelled, breaking away only a second after Daryl to try to reach Shane before he could do exactly what they predicted he would.

Everyone else moved along at slower speeds either because they knew that they couldn’t stop Shane if they reached him, or because they hadn’t fully taken in the gravity of the situation.

Ahead of everyone, Shane gained his legs a bit more and gained a bit more speed. He dropped the duffle bag, open, on the ground. He snatched a gun out of it. He closed the distance between himself and the barn and he rattled the doors, hard, still yelling at all of them about their foolishness and their determination to die needlessly for the sake of keeping a crazy old man happy—a crazy old man who was yelling from some distance away because he, like most of them, hadn’t started running yet.

Daryl and Rick both stopped short by the bag of guns. They both practically skidded to a stop in the dirt like the duffle bag had created something of an invisible barrier. They froze as Shane fired the weapon he was holding—another one clearly waiting as it hung suspended from his belt—at the door. The lock fell to the ground and Shane snatched the chain free before he raised the bar on the barn doors to open them.

He never heard Rick’s protests. He never heard Daryl yelling at him and accusing him of some form of acute insanity. 

He just turned around and yelled at them all that they better start shooting if they even had enough will to live that they would bother to save themselves.

Everyone froze and stared in disbelief as the wave of Walkers spilled out of the barn. They came quickly and in a bunch. There had been enough noise to stir them up and there was no telling when they’d last had a good meal. Stepping out of the barn, they immediately started toward everyone that was coming toward them in a wave.

Shane walked away from them and fired at one of the Walkers.

“If they were people,” he said, clearly speaking to the old man who had reached the invisibly barrier created by the gun bag, “would they keep comin’?” He fired at the Walker again. The second bullet slammed into the Walker’s chest only an inch or two from where Shane hit it the first time. 

“Stop!” Hershel yelled at him, his voice blending with Daryl and Rick’s as they pleaded for Shane to do the same thing.

“Why’s it keep comin’? That’s two rounds in the chest. Enough to stop the biggest, baddest motherfucker that wanted to come after me. So why does it keep comin’?” He fired off another bullet and the bullet struck the Walker in the skull. The Walker crumpled to the ground just before it reached Shane. “Keeps comin’ because it ain’t alive! It don’t have feelings! It don’t want nothin’ but to tear every one of you apart! And that’s what the hell they’re gonna do if we don’t stop them!” 

Whether or not they wanted to put down the barn full of Walkers, it became increasingly clear that Shane had taken away their choice in the matter. The Walkers were coming, now that they’d been freed, and there would be no getting them back in the barn. They were nearing the invisible line drawn in the sand by the bag full of guns and their proximity snapped some people into action.

Carol didn’t feel confident with a firearm. She especially didn’t feel confident, at the moment, when her arms hurt to even hold her daughter and she was certain that her entire body was shaking from the rush of chemicals her brain had put out in response to everything happening around her.

Rick armed himself, though, and Daryl pulled the gun from his hip that he’d worn out when he’d gone hunting—a just in case protection item that he took to go with the crossbow that he was still wearing. Andrea took a gun, T-Dog took a gun, and Dale armed himself. Glenn rushed forward to pull a gun from the bag and, together, they started to work at picking off the Walkers as they rushed toward them. Shane, too, from a different direction than the rest of them took down one Walker at a time with the guns he’d chosen.

Carol watched from where she stood, some distance behind the line of shooters, and hugged Sophia against her. Hershel and his people watched, too. In the time it took for them to put the Walkers down, he’d hit knees with his arms wrapped around his youngest daughter. His oldest daughter held onto him for support as she stood behind him. Patricia, too, stood with a hand on the old man’s shoulder, and the young man, Jimmy, stood with his mouth open not far behind them.

One by one, the Walkers dropped, until even the last had fallen into the spread-out pile of bodies. 

For a moment that felt like an eternity, after the last one fell, everyone gathered simply stared at the fallout from what had just happened. Then Hershel’s youngest daughter broke free from her father’s grasp and rushed into the pile of still and fallen Walkers. Despite the loud protests that she leave the bodies alone, she stepped through them, sobbing, and chose one Walker in particular to tug into a more convenient position.

Carol’s heart ached when she heard the girl’s sobbed words—a variation of the same thing repeated over and over again.

“Mama…mommy…mama…”

Carol’s heart nearly stopped, too, when the Walker that they’d thought was dead found a new surge of energy and grabbed for the girl, snagging her hair and gnashing its teeth at her. Daryl had waded into the pile of Walkers by then to check for Walkers who weren’t quite dead. In reaction to the girl’s screams, he snatched a pitchfork from where it leaned against the side of the barn, and he slammed the points of the pitchfork through the Walker’s head to free the frantic teenager.

As soon as she could gain her feet, she took off. She ran past all of them. She ran past Carol. Patricia followed her and her sister came close on their heels.

The rest of them stood, all staring at each other, because nobody knew what to do. Nobody knew what to say.

And it had been Shane that had started all of it. Shane—who was walking around, pacing the ground around the fallen corpses, caging.

It had been Shane who had, only moments before, held Carol against her will—even though she’d practically forgotten what happened in the chaos of the moment. 

“I want him off my farm!” Hershel yelled, getting to his feet. 

The words struck Carol because, even though he’d said the same phrase several times already, she was almost certain that he was serious this time like he’d never been serious before. 

“Hershel…” Rick started, trying to reach the old man and soothe things over. They both passed by Carol as Hershel went as quickly as he could toward the farmhouse.

“I want you all of my farm!” Hershel yelled. “Every last one of you! I’ve done nothing but help you! Give to you! You have no respect for me! You have no respect for my farm! You have no respect for my family! I won’t have you here anymore! Get off my farm!”

“Hershel—you gotta listen,” Rick declared, practically begging. Carol’s stomach churned as the words reminded her of what Shane had said to her not long ago. She wondered if it was something that all police offers said to try to get what they wanted out of someone who had no desire to listen to them. 

“I’ve done enough listening!” Hershel declared. He bypassed the house and headed straight for a farm truck. “I want you off my farm! When I get back, I want you gone! Everyone of you, or I’ll get you off my farm myself!” 

Rick fell back. Hershel didn’t stop his forward progress. He went directly to the farm truck and opened the door. He climbed inside and slammed the door shut. Apparently, the keys were in the truck because the engine roared to life and he drove it down the driveway quickly enough to kick up dust in every direction as he went.

“We should help them deal with their dead. If they even want our help. Then, I guess we should start packing up,” Dale said.

Carol turned to look at him. Andrea was a half a step behind him, still breathing heavily from everything. 

“We should wait,” Rick said. “Give him time to cool down. He probably didn’t mean it. He’s just—he’s just upset. It’s a lot to take in. Some of those were his family. His friends. He knew them. It’s just—it’s a lot to take in. We should give him some time cool down. He probably didn’t mean it. He’ll change his mind.”

“I think he meant it, Rick,” Dale offered. “And he’s not wrong. We’ve done nothing but disrespect his wishes since we got here. Some of us, at least. It’s Shane that caused this, Rick. He’s a loose cannon.” 

Carol glanced in the direction of the barn. Slowly everyone had left the piles of downed Walkers—content that they were all as dead as they could be and weren’t likely to rise again. Daryl had left the Walkers too, and he had almost reached where they were all beginning to huddle around Rick. 

Shane was the only one that was still out near the barn—still caging like some kind of animal.

“Couple damn screws loose!” Daryl yelled at no one in particular, probably piggybacking on what Dale had said. Dale’s words, no doubt, had carried at least far enough for Daryl to hear them.

Daryl was headed straight in Carol’s direction. She hugged Sophia to her and kissed the side of her daughter’s head because it soothed her. Sophia, for her part, didn’t need soothing. She was surprisingly calm given everything that was going on. She was, perhaps, simply overwhelmed and, therefore, wasn’t reacting in any way.

“Fuckin’ crazy, Rick!” Daryl declared, closing the gap. “You gotta do somethin’ about your fuckin’ partner!” 

Carol’s heart was beating loudly enough that she was sure that Daryl could hear it as he reached her. His arm touched her back a second before he wrapped his arm around her shoulder to offer the comfort that he’d never finished offering before. 

Carol and Sophia were calm, so he knew the immediate danger was out of the way, but he hadn’t entirely forgotten that, before all of this, Carol had come, screaming and running, toward them all.

“Hey—you alright now?” He asked. He squeezed her shoulder affectionately. Carol hissed at him. She would have swallowed back the reaction if she’d expected his touch and the pain that would follow, but she’d prepared for neither. “What’s wrong?” He asked suddenly, searching her face with a furrowed brow. “What the hell happened?” 

“You better go after him…” Maggie called from the porch. “You did this. You better not leave him out there alone. And you better do something with your friend—or I will.” 

Daryl ignored Maggie. He left Rick to deal with her. He shook Rick off, too, when Rick’s hand closed on his shoulder and Rick requested his assistance in dealing with everything he was facing.

“What’s wrong?” Daryl asked again, making it clear to Carol that he was going to keep his face inches from hers until she responded. The urgency kicked up in his voice and, with it, there was a hint of anger that came from his clear anticipation that he wasn’t going to like whatever she told him. “What happened?” 

Carol shook her head. 

“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “You need to go. Help Rick. Get Hershel. See if—he’ll let us stay on the farm.”


	37. Chapter 37

AN: Here we are, another chapter here.

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

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The decision to take Shane with them was born mostly from Rick’s need to keep an eye on his best friend when he felt that Shane was in the midst of some kind of breakdown caused by the stress that they were all enduring on a nearly daily basis. When they’d left in the SUV, Shane was handcuffed in the backseat, but he seemed to have calmed. He left declaring that he was fine and could be released. Carol had no idea whether or not they kept the man cuffed or what they might have done with him once they’d left the farm. She certainly wasn’t sad to see him go, though, and she decided that she wouldn’t be too upset if he never returned.

Rick, Daryl, and Glenn were following Maggie’s instructions on where to find her father. The town where they were going was said to be overrun with Walkers, though Carol was having a difficult time imagining anywhere in the world that wasn’t too overrun right now. The lack of Walkers in their direct vicinity, after all, seemed to be contributed to the fact that someone was trapping them all in Hershel’s barn.

With the three of them gone and Shane taken in tow, there were few people left behind to figure out what to do. They weren’t packing up camp because, even if Hershel was serious about forcing them back out onto the road, they couldn’t leave without their group members. Hershel’s family—and Patricia and Jimmy besides, who weren’t his actual family members—were reluctant to make any decisions about the corpses without Hershel’s input. Even if they’d wanted to bury them, though, they lacked the manpower to make that happen immediately. Instead of trying to bury or burn the corpses, all available hands dragged the bodies into the barn and piled them up. At the very least, they could shut the barn door to lessen the stench and to keep natural predators from being drawn to the farm in search of still and rotting flesh—something those predators were probably lacking a great deal in their diets since the dead had taken to moving about so often.

Carol could imagine that what Hershel’s loved ones were going through was a kind of second grieving. 

Their loved ones had died. Friends, family, neighbors—they had lost everyone with the epidemic, just like everyone else had. The difference, of course, was that, while some of them had simply started the hard part of mourning their dead and grieving their losses when they’d actually lost their loved ones, Hershel’s family unit had been living in denial that their loved ones could be restored to life. The loss was temporary. Maybe it was never truly felt. Now they couldn’t believe, any longer, that their loved ones were coming back. They were gone and there was true mourning to be done.

Carol was sure that it was difficult. And most of Hershel’s family was responding to their grieving by locking themselves away in the spaces they called their own in the sprawling farmhouse.

With Lori and Andrea’s help, Carol had prepared a meal and delivered the food to the rooms of those who were grieving. They’d decided not to disturb anyone for the remainder of the night. When their group was finished eating, Carol had packed up some of the food to take back to her tent for Daryl to eat whenever he returned. Then she’d helped clean up the farmhouse and she’d gone out to pump a few buckets of water. After her bath, she left two buckets of water by the tent for Daryl.

After Sophia played and nursed and had her bath, she went down relatively easily. It had been a long and overly exciting day for her. She was as ready to sleep as any baby ever had been. 

Carol entertained herself with one of the books that she snagged from Dale’s RV, and she tried to ignore the churning in her gut that surrounded the thought of the group that was out there. It got later and later, and it was dangerous to be out too much after dark. There was strength in numbers, and they were certainly a capable bunch of people, but that didn’t mean that Carol wasn’t made nervous by the fact that they hadn’t returned.

She was nervous, too, about when they returned. The bruises were already beginning to form on her arms and shoulders. They would get darker as the time passed into the following day. She could hide most of them with the sweater she’d tugged on to get her through her evening meal preparation and cleaning, but they weren’t going to stay hidden forever. Besides that, she wanted to tell Daryl what happened. She wanted him to know about Shane—about the fact that the man was even less predictable than they already thought—and she wanted him to help her figure out what she should do.

But she could see the potential problems ahead.

And she feared the backlash that might happen. She feared the problems it might cause within their group.

But she wasn’t going to be able to hide it from Daryl forever. He was going to see the bruises and he was certainly going to notice the fact that, even though she did her best to hide it, her shoulder was feeling the effects of Shane’s mistreatment. The pain was getting worse, as well, after she’d pushed through the evening’s work. She could hide her pain from those around her for a little while, but she couldn’t hide it constantly, and Daryl saw her more than most. 

Most importantly, she didn’t want to hide it from Daryl.

He would be angry. She knew that. He would be angry with Shane. He would probably be angry with her. But whatever it was that was happening between them, because Carol wasn’t sure what name to put with it at the moment, required some amount of trust and exchange. It was far too new for Carol to want to risk damaging it by trying to keep this a secret. Secrets, she knew, always came to light eventually.

And that was probably a bad truth for Shane, in more ways than one.

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Carol was snatched from sleeping to almost entirely awake at the sound of movement around her tent. She sat upright inside the tent and reached for the leather sheath that held the knife she kept near her side of the blanket. It wasn’t a very good hunting knife—not as good as the one that Daryl wore at all times—but it would do and it had a well-fitting sheath that kept the blade covered in case Sophia were to somehow get to it before Carol could stop her. 

More than anything, it made Carol feel a little more secure. That was why she’d happily taken it when Daryl had offered it out of the supplies he turned over from looking through a few cars on the highway.

It felt good in her hands as her heart pounded out a warning about the sounds.

It could be a Walker. It could be an animal scavenging for food or water. It could be a person.

Whatever it was, Carol was determined that she’d either kill it or injure it enough to make it run away. She was trapped in the tent with Sophia with the thing right outside, but she wasn’t going to let it get in the tent.

Carol crawled forward, wincing at the shoulder that was growing stiffer by the minute, and slowly unzipped the tent flap. She tried to do it carefully enough that whatever it was outside wouldn’t hear the zipper as it slipped along its tracks. She held her breath, too, so that her breathing wouldn’t even alert the thing to the fact that she was awake.

The thing outside, though, anticipated her reaction.

“Carol—you awake?” Daryl hissed. 

“Shit,” Carol spat, quickly unzipping the door of the tent quickly. She lowered her voice to barely above a whisper to match his and avoid waking Sophia. “You scared me to death!” 

“Couldn’t exactly tell you I was here without wakin’ you up,” Daryl said. “Either way—you was about to be scared.”

“I can warm your bath water,” Carol offered.

Daryl laughed. Carol could see his silhouette and nothing more. It was dark and there were barely even lights in the sky.

“I’m already washing,” he said. “Cold feels good anyway.”

“You’re naked just standing in the—in the yard? In the open?” Carol asked.

“Can you see me?” Daryl asked.

“No,” Carol admitted. She understood what he was saying. It was dark and she was right there at him. If she couldn’t see him, then someone at their little camp certainly couldn’t see him. 

“Then what I gotta hide for?” Daryl asked.

“I don’t think you have any reason to hide anyway,” Carol teased. “You’ve certainly got nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Asshole,” Daryl said. There was a hint of humor in his voice and Carol smiled to herself. She’d never really thought of the word as a term of endearment, but that’s what it sounded like. It sounded good to her after everything that had happened that day.

“Is everything OK?” Carol asked. “You were gone so long…”

“Long fuckin’ night,” Daryl growled. Carol heard him move around. He was drying off. He’d clearly found the towel and clothes she’d left at the entrance of the tent they called their supply tent. “Got to the place and it’s a long drive from here. Find Hershel an’ all hell breaks loose.”

“What do you mean?” Carol asked. “Shane?”

“Shane was fine,” Daryl said. “For the most part, he didn’t say shit or do shit. Until he wanted to force the old man outta the bar ‘cause he ain’t wanted to leave an’ you know how Shane is. Wanted to heavy-hand the whole thing.”

Carol’s stomach twisted a little.

“Yeah,” she said. “I—I know how Shane is.” She hesitated a moment. She wanted to tell Daryl what happened, but she doubted this was the moment. They needed to sleep. The whole camp was asleep except, perhaps, for those who were just returning and trying to settle down. 

It would keep until morning. There was no turning back time now and things were always easier to handle when it was light out.

Daryl came into the tent and Carol moved over to make sure he had room. Her eyes were adjusting more and more to the extreme darkness and she could make him out as he crawled among the blankets and zipped their door shut behind him. Her knife found its familiar spot off to the side. Daryl rested his hand on Sophia a moment—finding her in her corner on her blankets—and then he came to the area that he shared with Carol and settled a little. 

“Did—you get Hershel?” Carol asked. 

Daryl reached a hand out and touched her arm. His hand wrapped around her arm and she closed her eyes. There were so many bruises. Everywhere that Shane had touched her on her arms, he’d done so with an unnecessary amount of force. As time ticked on, she realized that it felt like every single point was a sore point of proof that his hands had been there in an unkind and unwelcome way.

But Daryl didn’t know yet. He would know when the sun came up. He would know when Carol told him—when she woke him with something he wouldn’t want to hear. But, at least, he’d have a decent night of sleep behind him and the rest he clearly needed and desired. 

She came, like she knew he wanted, to lie beside him.

“He’s back,” Daryl said. “Run into some trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?” Carol asked. “Walkers.”

“Walkers,” Daryl gruffed. Carol didn’t know if the light stroking on her arm was intentional or if he was only absentmindedly keeping his hands busy as he drifted off. She knew many of Daryl’s habits and ticks from the amount of time they’d spent together, but she knew that she had a lot to learn, especially with some very new levels of familiarity in their relationship. “And then some…”

“Some what?” Carol asked.

“People,” Daryl said.

“People?” Carol asked. “Like—good people?” 

“Not quite,” Daryl said.

“What happened?” Carol asked. Daryl shushed her. She realized he must have felt the tension in her body. His hand trailed over and Carol shivered at the soft touch as he brushed his hand over her breast. His thumb found her nipple and trailed over it, swiping gently back and forth, in the same way as he’d done with her arm. It wasn’t really suggestive, but it still caught the interest of Carol’s baser instincts and her body responded. 

“Sorry,” Daryl whispered when he felt the shiver. “Didn’t mean to—just wanted to…touch you.”

“You can touch me whenever you want,” Carol offered softly. He moved his hand back to her arm, though. He was tired. He was probably exhausted. He hadn’t wanted sex. He probably hadn’t even wanted to suggest it in the slightest way to her body—a body that seemed naturally inclined to respond to every signal that Daryl sent it. He just wanted to touch her, and that simple thought brought a tightening to Carol’s throat. She closed her eyes and accepted the gentle caress of his hand on her arms—so different than the touch her arms had suffered just earlier that day. “What happened with the people?” Carol asked.

“Shh,” Daryl said. He hummed. “Don’t matter. We’ll talk about it in the morning.” He moved his hand to her shoulder, near the crook of her neck, and squeezed. It was meant to be relaxing and affectionate. Carol controlled her verbal response to the pain that jolted through her like lightning, but she couldn’t control the response of her body as it coiled up in reaction. Daryl sat up, immediately, on his elbow. “What is it?” He asked. There was sound behind his voice. Carol shushed him.

“Sophia,” she said.

“What’s wrong?” Daryl asked. “You hurt?” 

“I’m fine,” Carol said. “Let’s get some sleep?”

“If you hurt…” Daryl started. He did settle down again, though, into his spot. He didn’t touch Carol this time, though. 

“I’m fine,” Carol repeated. “I promise. We’ll talk about it in the morning.” 

Carol was aware that Daryl didn’t immediately go to sleep. Maybe he thought she’d change her mind. Maybe he was waiting for something else. Eventually, though, he did drift off to sleep, and Carol followed closely after. 

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AN: I know some of you are impatient, but things happen when they happen. LOL Things have to be set up in the right order. Don’t worry, Carol’s going to talk to Daryl. There were things that needed to happen, first, for the future advancement of the story. Just have a little patience.

I hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you think!


	38. Chapter 38

AN: Here we are, another chapter here. 

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

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Daryl slept soundly. The events of the day before had clearly worn him out. He slept through Sophia’s nighttime needs, and he slept through her earliest morning needs as well. Outside, Carol could hear the sounds of the camp waking up. People were moving around. People were starting to do things. She could smell at least one fire—probably Dale’s—that was meant for either breakfast or coffee. Inside the tent, Carol had crawled around in their tent, changed Sophia, played with her, and was nursing her when Daryl started to stir. When he woke, as he often did, he grumbled a good morning and, without fully committing to being awake, he worked his way into his pants, pulled on his shirt, and crawled out of the tent to relieve himself. Outside, he took his time. He relieved himself. He smoked a cigarette. He came to terms with the fact that another morning was all around them.

And then he returned to the tent as practically a different person than the one that had crawled out moments before. 

As soon as Daryl came into the tent, he glanced in Carol’s direction and then started smoothing the blankets to make it more comfortable to spend part of their morning in the tent waiting for Sophia to be ready to start the day. Carol wanted to take this opportunity to talk to him, but she wasn’t sure how to start. She’d pulled on her sweater in case she wasn’t able to find a starting place. It was never easy to figure out how to start big discussions—especially since her gut always warned her off from them. Even though she knew Daryl wasn’t Ed at all, Ed had still taught her that big discussions were potentially dangerous, and it was impossible to erase years of learned behavior in the passing of a few months.

She didn’t have to think about it too long, though. As soon as he’d started smoothing the blankets, Daryl stopped and looked at her with a furrowed brow.

“What’d you do to your face?” Daryl asked.

Carol’s pulse kicked up as she tried to remember what might have happened to her face. It wasn’t as though she had a mirror, so she couldn’t look. She eased her hand up, not wanting to do much to disturb her shoulder, and touched her face. It was sore when she pressed it.

Shane had clamped his hand over her face and only now she realized how hard he had truly been handling her. Undoubtedly, he’d left a bruise or two there.

“I—wanted to talk to you,” Carol said. 

“I’m listening,” Daryl said. Carol couldn’t tell if his voice was gruff because his vocal cords weren’t yet fully awake, or if he’d already started to become irritated.

“Please—remember that Sophia is here,” Carol said. 

At the mention of her name, Sophia released her latch. She was nursing but, at this point, she was taking her time and was really using the act as an excuse to simply cuddle with Carol. It was the way she enjoyed the quiet before the storm most mornings, and Sophia seemed to look forward to it in the same way that many people looked forward to their morning coffee. Sophia glanced toward Daryl, and then she turned back and reattached herself to Carol before she sighed and closed her eyes.

“What happened, Carol?” Daryl asked. “I ain’t gonna—forget Sophia’s in here.”

“Please don’t be loud? OK? Don’t scare her?” Carol requested. 

“The more you askin’ me these things, the madder I get,” Daryl said. He was keeping his voice low and steady despite the fact that Carol could see evidence on his face that he was, as he said, starting to grow angry. She decided that it was best not to push him any further and not to let his imagination run away with him before she shared the truth with him.

“Yesterday when I…when everything happened with the barn? Before it?” Carol said.

“When you scared us all to death?” Daryl asked. “Snake or somethin’?” 

Carol shook her head. 

“It wasn’t a snake,” Carol said.

“Didn’t you say it was a snake?” Daryl asked, furrowing his brow.

Carol shook her head. 

“I think—Lori said snake. Maybe Patricia. Someone yelled snake, but it wasn’t a snake. At least—not the kind you’re thinking about.”

A little of the color drained out of Daryl’s face. He shifted around and changed his position. The one he’d chosen first probably wasn’t too comfortable, and it was clear that he wanted a better position in which to listen to whatever she had to share with him. 

Carol’s stomach churned. She hadn’t really thought about the words that she would use. She hadn’t figured out exactly how she would convey to Daryl what had happened. Part of her made her think that, really, nothing had happened. There was no reason to even tell Daryl. There was no reason to make a big deal about it. Things could have been so much worse, but they really weren’t. She was overreacting. The other part of her made her want to tell Daryl everything without even leaving out a single detail about how scared she felt and, simply, how bad she felt.

“Go ahead,” Daryl urged. She was taking too long.

“I…” Carol hesitated. “I was hanging out clothes. I washed clothes with Andrea and I was hanging out clothes.”

“With Andrea?” Daryl supplied, trying to help move the story along. Sophia gave up her nursing, done with the event, and Carol moved her around. She readjusted her shirt and did her best to help Sophia burp without letting her face give away too much of what her arms and shoulder were feeling. Daryl waited, patiently, until Carol put Sophia on the blanket covered floor of the tent to entertain herself with the scattered around toys. She started to slowly work at the buttons on her shirt.

“I sent Andrea back to Dale,” Carol said. “She was tired. Breathing hard. I was going to hang up the clothes and then, later, we were going to wash some more. You were—talking to Rick. Sophia was on her blanket. When I turned around from hanging something up to get something else from the basket, Shane was there.” 

“Ravin’ about the damned barn?” Daryl asked. 

“Yes and no,” Carol said. 

“Shane put them bruises on your face?” Daryl asked. He shifted his weight. For a moment, the change in position looked almost like he was preparing to pounce or preparing to run. He settled back down, though. 

Carol closed her eyes and nodded her head. 

“He put his hand over my mouth,” Carol said. 

“Why the hell did he do that?” Daryl asked. His voice was elevated, but Carol could tell that he was trying to do what she’d asked. He was trying not to let Sophia know that anyone was too upset. Sophia wasn’t too upset, either, because she responded to his slightly louder volume by happily yelling “Da” at him, over and over, and starting to scoot in his direction with the rubber toy she was teething on.

“He didn’t want me to scream,” Carol said. 

“An’ why the hell was he thinkin’ you might be getting ready to scream?” Daryl asked. “Because—that ain’t no normal damn reaction. I don’t think you ‘bout to scream right now. Musta been something that made him think that.” 

Daryl reached out to offer a hand to Sophia since she sometimes considered his hand as wonderful a toy as anything else they’d found for her. He’d wiggle his fingers for her entertainment, she could manipulate his fingers, and he’d let her teeth on him without complaint. As she requested, he was doing everything in his power to keep from scaring Sophia.

“He wanted to tell me…that you were bad for me,” Carol said. 

“Maybe he weren’t wrong,” Daryl said, his expression drooping slightly.

“He was wrong,” Carol said quickly. “He was so wrong, but…he wanted me to…I don’t even know, Daryl. He wanted me to run away with him. He wanted—he wanted to be a family man. Said he was a family man. He wanted a family.”

“An’ it just so happens you had one that he was thinkin’ about takin’ for his own?” Carol nodded. Daryl clenched his teeth, but quickly released the tension in his jaw. “Just how he fuckin’ talks about Soph. The things he’s said about her. Like…you know what the hell he’s said about her.”

“I know,” Carol said. “I do. But yesterday? He wanted a family.”

“He wanted you,” Daryl said. 

“He wanted a woman,” Carol said. “I don’t think it was me he wanted, Daryl. I think—I’m the only one that…he just wanted a woman. A baby. The possibility of more or something, he said.”

Daryl looked deflated. For a moment, Carol could tell that he’d forgotten about the bruises entirely. He might have left everything that was happening in the tent. He’d gone somewhere else in his mind. He’d gone somewhere and thought about something that made him sad. His expression gave it away. Carol gave him a moment to process his feelings. She’d already processed hers, after all, and she wasn’t upset. It wouldn’t really matter how long it took before he knew the full extent of what had happened. It wouldn’t change anything and Carol was no longer feeling the rush of emotions that she’d felt the day before. 

When Daryl rolled his eyes back in her direction again, Carol saw the anger flash in his eyes once more and she saw his jaw tense.

“When he was puttin’ his hand over your mouth ‘cause he figured you’d scream over—over what? His fuckin’ decision to take you as his family?”

Carol didn’t point out to him that none of his words constituted a complete thought. She could pick out enough to know what was likely working its way through his mind as all the information was struggling to find a place.

“He put his hand over my mouth because—he kissed me, and I tried to run away,” Carol said. 

“He kissed you?” Daryl barked. Immediately he jumped at the loudness of his own voice. It startled Sophia and she stopped what she was doing to stare at him with her mouth open. She was deciding if she was upset and he rubbed his finger against her cheek and offered her a put-on smile that was enough to soothe her. “He do anything else, Carol?”

Carol sucked in a breath and held it. The emotions that she thought she had control over were starting to show themselves again. Maybe she hadn’t managed to bury them down quite as deeply as she’d thought. She didn’t try to hide her grimace, this time, as she moved around enough to push her sweater down. She didn’t come out of it entirely. She wouldn’t need to. He’d realize that there was more on the parts of her arms that the sleeves still covered. Carol didn’t have a mirror, but she could see a good bit of the damage done there without one. She focused on her breathing and watched Daryl as he took it all in. 

His expression was difficult for Carol to read. His eyes darted back and forth like he was taking in every square inch of her. His forehead was furrowed deeply and then it softened. For a split second, Carol thought he might cry. He brought the hand that wasn’t playing with Sophia to his mouth and he troubled his thumb nail and cuticle with his teeth. Then his forehead furrowed again and his jaw flexed and he moved his hand.

“What’d he do?” Daryl asked. He practically growled out the words.

“He was drunk,” Carol said. “He’s crazy.”

“I ain’t asked you to defend him,” Daryl said. His voice was low and steady, but everything had the sound of a low and throaty growl. “I asked what he done.” 

“He just—grabbed me,” Carol said. “Twisted my arm and—and my shoulder. He held me there. Talked to me. He—kissed me. Kissed my neck. But, Daryl? I have to tell you that…I kissed him back.”

“What?” Daryl barked.

“To distract him,” Carol said. “I got him to let me go enough—I kneed him. In the nuts. Daryl—I guess the truth is it just scared me. It scared me because Sophia was there and he was drunk and I didn’t hear him coming. Before I heard him, he was there and…I guess it just scared me. He didn’t really do anything…”

“I’m lookin’ at you an’ that don’t fuckin’ look like nothin’ to me, Carol!” Daryl said. 

“I bruise easily,” Carol said. “I always have. It looks worse than it is…Daryl…”

“What the hell would he have done if you ain’t kneed him in the nuts?” Daryl asked. “Can you tell me that?”

“I don’t know—probably would’ve let me go,” Carol offered.

“Fuck…” Daryl growled. “The fuck he woulda…the fuck…”

Suddenly, it was clear to Carol that Daryl wasn’t handling well what he knew. She tried to apologize to him. She told him she was sorry for starting his morning off like this. She was sorry for upsetting him. She told him she was sorry for kissing Shane. She was sorry for anything that was making him very clearly uncomfortable in his skin to the point that he looked like he might tear it off to run away from it. 

And his only reaction was to leave her and Sophia there—Sophia who had decided that she was quite upset with the air in the tent and the noise and frustration, so she started to scream to express her displeasure—and to crawl quickly out of the tent.

By the time that Carol was able to gather up Sophia and get out of the tent herself, Daryl was halfway across the yard toward the camp. He was already drawing the attention of everyone that was involved in other activities. He was headed, at a half-lope, straight for the spot where Rick and Shane were standing on the ground talking to Hershel as he stood on his porch.

And his words, as he ran, made Carol’s stomach ache and made her pick up her speed as she followed after him.

“Shane! Shane! I’ma beat your fuckin’ head in!” 

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AN: Patience everyone, there is a LOT to be unpacked here. It’s far more than one chapter, but I’m fairly confident that you’re going to enjoy it (if you like the story, of course). 

Thanks for being so enthusiastic and for letting me know that you’re enjoying the story. I know that I often don’t respond to reviews (in favor of writing more, honestly), but please know that I love them and I get so excited to see you excited! 

I hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you think!


	39. Chapter 39

AN: Here we are, another chapter here. 

As I said before, we have a great deal of stuff to unpack here. I thank you all for your enthusiasm. It’s so contagious and I love it! 

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

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“Daryl!” Carol called out, running to try to catch up to him. 

If she caught him, she couldn’t stop him, but she didn’t want him to do anything foolish. She didn’t want him to get hurt. Even if he were more than capable of hurting Shane worse than Shane might hurt him, he was still bound to get hurt in a fight—and Carol didn’t want that. 

“It’s not worth it!” She called out. “Daryl! Please!” 

Daryl ignored her, though, and spat a few more threats at Shane before he reached where Shane and Rick were practically waiting for him. He launched himself at Shane, but he was intercepted by Rick and Rick pushed Daryl backward, using Daryl’s own momentum to put some distance between them. 

“What the hell is your problem?” Shane spat from behind Rick. 

“Just calm down!” Rick yelled. “Daryl! Just calm down!” 

“I’ma break your fuckin’ neck!” Daryl spat. “That’s what the problem is! What you think? You think ‘cause you was a cop that gives you a right or somethin’? Gives you a right to put your hands on people how the hell you like?” 

Carol reached Daryl, then, along with everyone else who formed something of a semi-circle around the area. None of them knew what to do. They were all, like Carol, somewhat helpless. The situation had to be worked out, and that was all there was to it. Daryl, after all, wasn’t listening to Carol’s protests any more than he was listening to anyone else’s.

“What the hell are you talkin’ about, man?” Shane fired back. 

“Son—just calm down,” Hershel offered from the porch. 

“I seen what’cha done to Carol!” Daryl barked. It was difficult to say if he was calming or not. If he was calming, he certainly wasn’t calming a great deal and he wasn’t doing it with any remarkable speed. Realizing he couldn’t go straight to Shane, he turned and started off to the side like he might slip between Rick and the porch to get to Shane. Rick side-stepped and practically clotheslined Daryl to stop him from getting to Shane. Daryl half-heartedly fought Rick over the move. “I’m gonna kill him—so you can get outta my way or I’ll kill you, too!”

“Daryl! This isn’t how we handle things!” Rick yelled in Daryl’s face. 

Daryl backed up two steps, looked like he might be ready to rationally talk about things, and chewed at his cuticle. He kept his eyes on Shane, though, like he expected Shane to make some kind of move.

“Why don’t you tell me what happened,” Rick said. Carol knew the tone. It was the police officer tone. It was the tone that was meant to try to diffuse the situation. It was the tone that he would use before he started using brute force to get what he wanted.

“Look at Carol!” Daryl barked. He pointed back toward Carol. “Look at what he done to her! I know what’cha woulda done, too, asshole! If she hadn’t rung your damned bell! I hope your fuckin’ jewels is swole up like coconuts right now!” 

“Hey! What the hell you talkin’ about?” Shane barked back. “I haven’t touched her!” 

Carol noticed that Shane was strategically keeping his distance. He was remaining safely behind Rick and he was keeping even a few steps back from where Rick was standing. Shane was fully aware that Daryl, if he were given the chance, was going to try to make good on his promises. 

“Show ‘em!” Daryl yelled. He turned around to face Carol. He was panting from his exertions. “Take that sweater off. Show ‘em!” 

“I can’t,” Carol said. “Sophia…”

“Help her!” Daryl barked at Andrea. Andrea jumped, clearly not expecting for Daryl to yell at her in that way, and she approached Carol. She said something that got lost in the chaos around them. Maybe it was an apology. Carol told her that it was fine—whatever she was doing was fine—and she accepted Andrea’s help in delicately removing the sweater, one arm at a time, that she was wearing to reveal all the bruises in their quickly blackening glory.

She heard the reaction, too, though she kept her eyes closed a moment to avoid seeing the initial response. 

“That’s what he done! That’s what he fuckin’ done to her!” Daryl spat. “And I’ma break his fuckin’ neck for it, too!”

His energy renewed with seeing the bruises, Daryl caged for a second. Then he started to try to make another move. This time, instead of going toward the porch where he’d be trapped in by the structure of the house, he darted to the side that was only protected by other group members. Dale stepped in his line like he might hold him back and Daryl stopped for a second. 

“You better back up, old man,” Daryl warned him. “I don’t wanna hurt you, but I will if I gotta.” Daryl turned and looked around, making a sweeping sort of eye contact with everyone surrounding him. “I will if I have to! That goes for all of you! You better back up! This don’t got shit to do with you!”

“Take it easy,” Rick said. “Take it easy…now let’s just talk about this, Daryl.”

“There ain’t shit to talk about!” Daryl protested.

“He’s crazy, man!” Shane offered from behind Rick. “He’s fuckin’ crazy. Look at him!” 

“You’re saying you didn’t do that?” Rick asked.

Carol made eye contact with Shane a second—a half a second—and he rubbed his hand across his head in frustration. Behind Rick, he caged in a manner not entirely unlike the way that Daryl was caging in front of Rick.

“Man—why the hell would I do that? Why the hell would I—do that to Carol?” Shane asked. “You tell ‘em, Carol—who the hell really done that you, huh? You gonna—you gonna tell ‘em I done that to you?” 

Carol swallowed. She felt all the eyes on her. She recognized his tone, too. She’d heard it before, though it had come out a different mouth. It was a threat, but it was only a threat to her. Nobody else would hear it. Nobody else would recognize it. Most of them hadn’t been threatened in that way. Daryl might have been the only one that would recognize it for what it was.

“You said you wanted—a family,” Carol said. “That I was that kind of woman. And you wanted a family.” 

Shane laughed. It was the kind of laugh that made the hair on the back of Carol’s neck stand up on end. 

“I wanted a family so I just—what exactly did I do to you, Carol?”

“You grabbed me,” Carol said. “Twisted my arm behind my back…”

Her heart thundered in her chest. Her brain told her that what she was saying sounded more and more ridiculous as she said it. She realized that everyone was looking at her. She was faintly aware that Andrea was touching her. She thought she could feel her hands on her back. Sophia was drooling down her chest from teething on her hands.

And every word that Carol said sounded more and more ridiculous with Shane standing there staring at her like she was crazy. He told them as much.

“She’s crazy,” Shane said, laughing to himself. 

“She’s fuckin’ hurt!” Daryl yelled. “You done it!” 

“Look—Rick? Why the hell would I—do whatever I supposedly did to Carol because…because I wanted a family? No offense, Carol, but—she’s not even my type. Rick—you know my girlfriends. She’s not even my type. And if I wanted a family, why the hell would I go about it by—doing that?” 

“Carol,” Rick said, “what exactly happened?” 

Carol recognized the tone. It was the police tone. It was still the tone that was meant to diffuse the situation. It was the tone that was supposed to calm her, but it made her feel five years old and foolish. She felt like she was choking. She felt like there was no air in her lungs, despite the fact that she knew that she was breathing.

“He grabbed me,” Carol offered. Her voice barely came out. Her lungs ached. “He grabbed me and—he twisted my arm.” 

She was immensely grateful for the touch of Andrea’s hand on the small of her back. She was thankful for the soothing feeling of the woman’s fingertips as she scratched at Carol’s back, clearly not knowing what else to do at the moment but wanting to offer something. It was grounding in a welcome way when everything else felt very uncomfortable. 

“You’re pissed off about Lori!” Daryl barked. “You’re pissed off ‘cause she’s knocked up an’ Rick’s here an’ you don’t even know who the hell’s kid it is, but Rick’s here so you’re shit outta damn luck!” 

Carol felt like she’d been hit in the gut when she heard the words come out of Daryl’s mouth. From the sounds around her, it was the first time that anyone else had heard such an accusation as well. As soon as Daryl said the words, though, Rick and Lori both had an invested interest in the exchange that hadn’t quite been there before. Carol was almost certain there had to be some truth to the accusation.

“I know! I heard about her bein’ knocked up yesterday!” Daryl yelled. “We was gonna have to think about it. Gonna have to make changes in the group! Make sure she got what she needed! An’ you heard about it, too. You was pissed! So you thought you’d get Carol. Took it out on her when she ain’t wanted you neither!” 

“Daryl!” Rick protested.

“You’re outta line, man! You’re way fuckin’ outta line!” Shane barked. 

Suddenly it didn’t look like Daryl was the only one who might be interested in a fight. Carol shifted her weight enough to see around Rick. She could see Shane. He wasn’t wearing a gun. At least, he wasn’t wearing a gun that could be seen, and he wasn’t reaching for one. That was Carol’s greatest concern. Rick was wearing a gun, but Shane wasn’t. Daryl wasn’t. Carol didn’t want Daryl to think he was going after Shane in a fair fight when Shane was armed.

In her concern about the gun, Carol missed some of the exchange that was taking place. She missed some of the bickering back and forth between Rick and Daryl and Shane. She missed Lori’s protests and the other interjections that were getting lost in the din of voices. 

She only came back into the conversation when she heard Shane say something that included her name. She looked in his direction. He was still keeping Rick between himself and Daryl, but he was yelling directly at her now. 

“Tell ‘em the truth, Carol!” He goaded. “Tell ‘em what the hell really happened! Tell ‘em it was Daryl that did that to you and he’s out here looking for someone to blame! Rick—look at him! He’s a fuckin’ animal, brother. He’s an animal. You know him, brother! You know his kind! Fucked up and did what he did and now he’s gotta cover it up somehow. Knew we’d see it and he’s gotta cover it up somehow!”

“Shut your fuckin’ mouth!” Daryl spat. 

“You tell her what to say? Couldn’t come up with anything better?” Shane goaded. “You knew she’d tell everyone whatever you told her to say! Tell ‘em the truth, Carol. Go straight from Ed to Daryl—some people just make the same mistakes…”

Carol wasn’t sure if Dale saw it coming or if he just happened to back up at the right moment, but he stepped quickly back and cleared enough space for Daryl to get between Rick and himself. Carol was pretty sure that Daryl wouldn’t have stopped for Dale. In his anger, he might have plowed through the old man. He didn’t stop for Rick, either. When Rick made a move to stop him, he shoved Rick out of the way with enough force that Rick had to regain himself to watch the interaction for a moment.

Daryl hit Shane with everything he had in him. Carol had never seen someone throw themselves as ferociously at someone else before—not even when Shane had taken his frustrations out on Ed’s face. 

Daryl was spitting curses at Shane, but Carol could understand none of them, and she doubted that anyone else could either.

Around her, nobody knew what to do. There was some screaming and yelling. There were some protests. But, for the most part, everyone seemed frozen for a moment in disbelief.

Rick made the move to try to break up the fight, but it didn’t work. Daryl was too determined and Shane, when he decided to try to fight back, wasn’t in the position to help Rick bring things to a close. Carol moved forward, but she had no idea how to help. Soon, she realized that Dale was holding his arm gently in front of her—across Sophia—to act as a barrier. Quietly, he was telling her not to go any closer. 

The fight only ended when Rick pulled his gun. When he fired into the air, and his warning shot did nothing, he brought the butt of the gun into the fight. Carol screamed at him as it made contact with Daryl. The blow stunned Daryl, and succeeded in stopping the fight and getting him off of Shane, but it didn’t knock Daryl unconscious. Instead, it only allowed for Shane to crawl backwards and away from Daryl and for Rick to get between them.

Carol rushed forward and, as carefully as she could to allow herself to balance Sophia on her hip as she moved, tried to bend down and mop at Daryl’s face with her shirt. In her concern for Daryl, she did her best to ignore the fact that she had to grit her teeth against the pain in her shoulders that holding her daughter that way was causing.

Carol jumped when she felt hands on her shoulders. She didn’t expect to turn and see Hershel standing there. While everyone was trying to figure out what to do and how to handle things, Hershel reached for Sophia. Carol allowed him to take her daughter and he passed the baby to Patricia before he touched Carol’s shoulders again. 

When he spoke, he surprised her by speaking softly. The softness to his voice, rather than being condescending like the officer voice they’d heard earlier, sounded sincere.

“Come on,” Hershel said. “Come on. Let’s go inside. We’ve got Sophia. Come on—let’s get you all cleaned up.”


	40. Chapter 40

AN: Here we are, another chapter here. 

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

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“Does he need stitches?” Carol asked, leaning over Hershel. At least she’d finally calmed down and stopped repeatedly apologizing to Daryl for breathing and, apparently, causing everything that was wrong in the world. He’d take her worry over her apologies any day. 

The wound on Daryl’s head—if it was really much of a wound at all—was clean now and bandaged. 

“The bandage will be sufficient,” Hershel assured Carol. “It only bled because of where it was. It’s really minor. I don’t think Rick was trying to hurt Daryl as much as he was trying to stun him to stop things from elevating. Let me see those hands again.”

Daryl offered his hands over to Hershel. He’d washed them off once, but now he wanted to bandage them. Daryl hated to tell him that he’d only pull the bandages off again when they started to annoy him. His hands, after all, barely seemed to have time to heal before he was busting them open again—most often with a desire to rearrange the various bits and pieces that made up Shane’s face.

He didn’t know how Shane looked. He hadn’t taken in much more than the blood and, even then, he couldn’t be entirely sure if all the blood he was seeing had been his or Shane’s. 

He knew he got some solid hits in, though, and he felt like Shane had gotten in relatively few. Either that, or the rush of emotions kept Daryl from feeling the impact of Shane’s punches. 

“Look at Carol,” Daryl offered as Hershel was finishing with his hand. He’d requested it more than once, but Hershel was ignoring him. “Her shoulder. Look at Carol.” Hershel continued to ignore him.

“You’re lucky you didn’t break anything,” Hershel said. “Still—those fingers are going to be sore. There’s nothing to be done about it now. I can give you something for the pain.”

“Don’t bother,” Daryl said.

“You don’t have to suffer, son, needlessly,” Hershel said.

Daryl flexed his possibly jammed fingers. 

“Don’t hardly feel it,” he said. It was a lie. He felt it. Of course, he did. But he kind of liked the feeling. The soreness settling into his fingers was earned. He liked knowing that the fingers, although jammed, had been jammed against Shane’s sorry face. “Look at Carol.”

Hershel laughed to himself. 

“I’m going to look at Carol, son,” Hershel said. “You can stop reminding me. I always stop the bleeding first. It’s in my training. You can get up. Carol?” 

Daryl stood up and moved far to the side to give Hershel and Carol space. Rick had hit him in the head and, for safety, Hershel had asked that he not get the bright idea to take a nap for a little while. There was nothing else that could be done for him, though, at this moment. When Hershel beckoned, Carol came and gingerly sat on the edge of the bed. The whole ordeal had been wearing on her. Daryl was absolutely certain that she looked more exhausted and pained than he was. Hershel’s hands immediately went for the shoulder that was troubling her and she let part of a cry escape her before she bit it back.

“Easy, girl,” Hershel crooned. “Easy.”

“She ain’t a dog,” Daryl said quickly.

Hershel laughed to himself. He patted Carol’s other shoulder. He gently checked her elbows and wrists. Then he let his hands trail very gently down her back, but he was taking a moment before he moved back toward what was truly bothering her. Daryl knew exactly what he was doing her. He was soothing her very purposefully.

“You must forgive me,” Hershel said. “I spent my life as a veterinarian. I don’t mean anything by it. I assure you.”

“I’m not offended,” Carol offered. She visibly relaxed under the gentle stroking of the old man checking her vertebrae. Daryl saw that, recognizing her relaxation, Hershel continued the stroking long after he’d assured himself that nothing was terribly out of place there. 

“People sometimes forget that—even though we may be at the top of the food chain and blessed with thumbs,” Hershel said, keeping his tone even, “we’re still really animals.” 

If he didn’t know what Hershel was doing, Daryl might have wondered why the old man was being so careful and thorough in his gentle inspection of Carol. She visibly relaxed under the tender touch, though. His fingers must have found pressure points, because, for a moment, even her eyelids seemed a little heavy. From the outside looking in, Daryl saw what he was going to do just before he did it. By the time Carol realized what was happening, though, he’d already quickly moved her shoulder back into place.

She cried out, but the job was done. Daryl’s stomach churned and his chest ached. He’d seen it. He knew it had to be done, but he still hated that she suffered even a moment more of pain.

“I’m sorry. I truly am. Subluxation,” Hershel said. “At least it wasn’t entirely dislocated. Have you damaged that shoulder before?” 

He busied himself with a box that he’d brought in. He unlocked the box with a key on his keychain. When he opened it, Daryl realized it was filled with various kinds of medications. Daryl didn’t know if it had always been locked, but he didn’t figure it was a bad idea. 

Hershel selected what he wanted and carried a glass, one that Patricia had brought him when she brought the box, into the little bathroom that connected to the bedroom. He ran the glass full of tap water and returned to gather up the medication.

“Are you allergic to anything?” Hershel asked.

“Not that I know of,” Carol said. 

“Let’s hope you’re not,” Hershel said. 

He circled around the bed and dropped several different sized pills into Carol’s good hand before he offered out the water.

“Swallow those, please,” he said. 

Carol laughed to herself. Despite the fact that there were tears on her face, she was still able to find some humor in the moment.

“Or you’ll roll them up in cheese and shove them down my throat?” She asked.

Hershel laughed at her humor.

“I might,” he said. “Though I worked more with bigger animals and we tended to find other points of entry for medication.”

Carol laughed and tossed the pills into her mouth.

“Point taken,” she said around them as she reached for the water to wash them down.

“What’d you give her,” Daryl asked.

“Anti-inflammatory,” Hershel said. 

“That was a lot of anti-inflammatory,” Carol said, having clearly struggled a second to get the pills swallowed. 

Hershel hummed. 

“Everything go down OK?” He asked.

“Trust me,” Carol said, “it went down. I don’t need your help.” 

Hershel laughed and sat down on the edge of the bed beside Carol. He took the glass from her when she offered it and moved it to the nightstand.

“Anti-inflammatory and—pardon my French—one hell of a pain killer,” Hershel said.

“I have things to do,” Carol said, somewhat offended.

“You do,” Hershel said. “You have to stay right here in this room with your daughter until some of what’s going on outside this room blows over.”

They had yet to actually speak about what had happened. Patricia had helped Hershel, all the while carrying Sophia around, and then she’d said something about taking Sophia for a treat in the kitchen. Hershel hadn’t entertained any talk of what had happened. He’d gone straight to tending to problems as he saw fit.

“Daryl—would you give us a few minutes of privacy? Just—step outside the door? I’d like to—finish examining Carol.” 

Daryl’s stomach twisted. He shook his head at Hershel.

“I’ll leave—if that’s what you want me to do,” Daryl said. “But I know you’re askin’ me to leave ‘cause you think she’s gonna be too scared to talk with me in here. I know you think I done it, but…”

“I don’t think you did it, son,” Hershel said sincerely. “Not at all. I know what it looks like when someone—I know what it looks like when someone is guilty of something like this and when they’re not. I’m no innocent, and I’m not a stranger to the after-effects of anger. I know the difference, as well, between real guilt and the fear of being caught.” He laughed to himself and shook his head. “And don’t forget, I was a veterinarian. I worked with animals. My patients couldn’t tell me anything, but their body language told me everything. If you had done this, I would be able to read it in Carol’s body language. I would be able to read it in yours.” He shook his head. “She’s more afraid that you’ll leave the room than she is that you’ll stay.” He turned his attention to Carol. “You want him to stay?” 

“I don’t have anything to hide from him,” Carol offered. 

Hershel nodded. 

“Feeling better?” He asked. 

Carol nodded. Daryl could see something around her eyes. She didn’t look sleepy, but she did look a little drunk, perhaps. The pain killer was starting to kick in with nothing in her stomach to impede it. 

“Lie back?” Hershel asked. 

Carol followed his commands and he pulled her shirt up just enough to reveal her rib cage and belly. There were a few bruises on her side. They were clearly fingerprints. Hershel worked his fingers around her rib cage.

“That’s just where he held me,” Carol offered. Hershel hummed at her.

He dropped his fingers to press her stomach and abdomen, testing the soft tissues for any kind of damage.

“He grabbed you,” Hershel said. “Held you with—it seems a great deal more force than would have been necessary to restrain you.”

“I was trying to pull away,” Carol offered.

“As you would when someone is threatening you,” Hershel said. 

“He didn’t actually threaten me,” Carol said. “I guess—he never actually said he’d do anything to me. Not that I remember.”

“He might have said very little,” Hershel said. “But—anyone who feels the need to use this much force with someone is threatening them. Words or no words. He twisted your arm and shoulder. Did he do anything else? You can sit up now—if you want.” 

Carol did sit up. She used her good hand to rearrange her shirt. She was clearly feeling the need to treat the damaged shoulder with some tenderness. 

“He kissed me,” Carol said. “A…few times. I kissed him back, once.”

She flicked her eyes in Daryl’s direction. It made his stomach clench to think of Shane kissing her and to think of her kissing Shane. He understood why she did it, though, and he nodded at her to let her know that it was OK and she should continue to speak freely to Hershel. 

“It made him—let go a little. I kneed him in the…in the…” 

“We used to say family jewels,” Hershel said. He laughed and it seemed to relax Carol again.

“Did he—do anything else to you?” Hershel asked. “Anything that—you might have been reluctant to tell us?” When Carol didn’t respond, furrowing her brow at him, Hershel looked at Daryl and frowned. Then he looked back at Carol. He took her hand and gently worked it in his. “Let’s try this another way. Is there any chance…any chance at all…that—Sophia may not be your only little one? In the future?”

Carol glanced at Daryl and then examined the fingers that Hershel was working between his own.

“Not—that would be Shane’s,” Carol offered quietly. 

Hershel laughed to himself, but he swallowed it back. 

“Fair enough,” he said. “I had to ask. Especially in light of—everything that’s happening these days.”

“Why you ask?” Daryl asked. 

Hershel sighed. 

“To know the extent of his crimes,” Hershel said. “And—to prepare for whatever we needed to prepare for.” He sighed. “There are people that need to be cremated. Laid to rest.”

“I’m sorry for…” Carol started, clearly feeling someone needed to apologize to Hershel for some of the suffering their group had brought to his door. He stopped her by shushing her and continuing to pat the hand that he held between his. 

“For what Shane did?” He asked. “I’m not asking you to apologize for Shane anymore. In fact—I’d rather if you didn’t apologize for anything for a while. I don’t care for the sound of it. It—brings up poor memories. There are—bodies that need to be cremated. My wife and her son—my step-son—among them. I want to be sure that they’re handled with dignity. Respect.”

“I’ll help,” Daryl said.

“I’d prefer it if you stayed here,” Hershel said. “There are—several things we need to deal with. As a group, if everyone’s going to insist on staying. This is one of those things. I’d rather you stayed here until we can do that. I’ll send someone to bring your things. Patricia will bring you a meal soon and she’ll bring Sophia.”

“What about—milk?” Carol asked. “The pills…”

She furrowed her brow at Hershel in a way that was almost comical. She was feeling better. She was feeling relaxed. But she was possibly also having a hard time keeping her footing firmly in reality.

“Your milk will be fine for Sophia,” Hershel said. “Nothing I gave her will cause problems for her, and you won’t be taking it long. I only want you to rest a little. Let that shoulder rest. Relax. And I know women like you.” He winked at her. “You won’t stay off your feet unless I take your feet out from under you. This is the nicest way to do that.” 

“She’s gonna stay off her feet,” Daryl offered.

“I’d appreciate it if you took it easy, too,” Hershel said. “Stay in the room. Smoke out the window if you like. If someone comes and tries to start something, don’t entertain them.” He smiled at Daryl. “I don’t know about Shane, but I do believe that—you might be something of the real kind of family man. Is that fair to say?” 

Daryl’s pulse picked up. He could practically feel his heart hopping around inside his chest like it had gotten loose from its designated spot. He shrugged his shoulders and nervously brought his thumb to his mouth to chew at the calloused skin that hardened there. The repetitive biting was calming, but not enough to take away the fluttering in his chest.

“Never had one,” Daryl offered. “Not…not really.”

“Well—at the very least, I think you can understand family,” Hershel said. 

Daryl nodded his head.

“Stay here with Carol. Keep her company and help her relax. Stay with Sophia. Ignore—everything that happens outside this door. Let’s have a little peace—just until my family is laid to rest. Can you do that for me?” 

Daryl nodded.

“Yeah,” he said. “You got my word. We can do that.”


	41. Chapter 41

AN: Here we are, another chapter here.

I’m sorry, life got really crazy again. I hope to be back for at least a few days! 

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

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Carol jerked when Daryl pushed the door closed. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Sorry—go back to sleep.” 

“I wasn’t asleep,” she protested, halfway sitting up. Daryl couldn’t help but smile to himself. She furrowed her brow and looked at him. “Where’d you go?” 

He swallowed down his amusement.

“Told you,” he said. “When you weren’t asleep an’ all. Went with Hershel. Just to check on Sophia an’…to hear a couple things he wanted to say. That’s all. You OK?” 

“Where’s Sophia?” Carol asked. She looked around her and Daryl saw the moment of panic wash over her.

“Fine,” Daryl said. “She’s fine. With Patricia. Playin’ with bowls an’ all in the kitchen. Patricia ain’t gonna let her outta her sight. Gonna bring her back when she needs you. Bring you somethin’ to eat. You oughta just—just rest now. There ain’t nothin’ else to do until…well, until Hershel gets back. Told him we’d stay in here. Lay low. Andrea—she’s gonna bring us some stuff from the tent later. After she’s done helpin’ with the bodies.” 

“We should be helping,” Carol said.

Daryl crossed the room. He stood by the side of the bed and, finally, took a seat on the edge of it. 

“We should,” he agreed. “And we woulda been helpin’ until Shane thought he was some kinda big damn man that could—that could just do what the hell he wanted.”

“Where is he?” Carol asked.

“Don’t know,” Daryl said. “Hershel said he was gonna talk to Rick. Gonna handle things. He said—‘cause I asked him to—that he was gonna keep Andrea away from him, too. Just…you know…just in case. Keep him away from her an’ Patricia and his girls.”

Even with the bruises like stains around her face, each of them marking where Shane’s fingers had been pressed unmercifully hard against her skin, she was beautiful. And she was looking at him, glassy-eyed from the strong pain medication, like he was something unlike anything she’d ever seen before. Just the way she was looking at him made his pulse pick up and his chest ache.

He wanted nothing more, at that moment, than to never do anything that would make her look at him with any less wonder and affection.

“Can I touch you still?” Daryl asked. 

Carol smiled at him. 

“I wish you would,” she said. 

Daryl leaned toward her and she leaned up, out of the pillows into which she was reclining, to meet him for a quick kiss. He would have wanted it to last longer, but she pulled away before she changed her position to sit up a bit more. 

“You don’t have to ask me, you know, every time you want to kiss me or—touch me,” Carol offered.

“I think, after what Shane done, maybe you oughta have a couple days where people don’t touch you unless it’s what the hell you want,” Daryl said. 

“Maybe just people that I don’t want to touch me,” Carol offered, raising her eyebrow at him with a smirk. “You can consider this…you can consider this…permission…permanent permission.”

“Permission until further notice,” Daryl offered. 

“That, too,” Carol agreed.

“Them pills good to you?” Daryl asked with a laugh. He’d seen people handle their pain medication much worse, but it was clear she was feeling at least a little loopy. He could see it in her eyes. 

Carol groaned and her cheeks flushed pink.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“Shhh,” Daryl said quickly. He shook his head at her. “Don’t apologize. I heard it so damned much today—I’ma be happy if I live the rest of my sorry ass life without hearin’ you say you sorry for shit. You ain’t got nothin’ to be sorry for.” 

Daryl brushed his thumb over her cheek. She reached her hand up and caught his hand, bringing it around to her lips. She frowned at him, remembering everything, perhaps, when she witnessed his bandages again. 

“I know you don’t want me to apologize,” Carol said. “But, Daryl…”

“Don’t you do it!” Daryl said quickly. He said it harder, perhaps than he meant to because her eyes went wide. He didn’t like that expression any more than the almost incessant litany of apologies she’d spilled out earlier. He consciously softened his expression and his tone. He offered her a hint of a smile before he put back on his stern expression so that she’d understand it was a joke. 

She did. She relaxed. She smiled.

“I was just going to say that I didn’t want you to get hurt,” Carol said. 

“I ain’t hurt,” Daryl told her.

“Your hands,” Carol said.

“Didn’t nothin’ happen out there that I wouldn’t have happen a thousand times,” Daryl said. “I don’t like that he put his hands on you like that. I don’t want nobody—they ain’t got the right to do it.” His stomach ached as he remembered the fight that he hadn’t exactly won and he hadn’t exactly lost. He remembered what Shane had said. “They all think I done it,” Daryl said.

“No,” Carol said, barely blowing the word out. She shook her head. “No, they don’t.” 

“They do,” Daryl said. “Who the hell they gonna believe done it, Carol? Shane? A fuckin’ ex-cop? Or me? A—a dirty ass animal. Like he said.”

Carol sat all the way up and moved toward him. She practically draped herself across him in the best way she could. His position on the edge of the bed made things awkward for her. Still, she kissed his cheek and nuzzled her face against his neck. He closed his eyes when he felt her breath there and realized that, even though he probably smelled like sweat and campfire and a night in the yard, she was breathing in the smell of him like it was something she enjoyed.

“I know you didn’t do it,” Carol said. “And Sophia knows you didn’t do it. And—Hershel and Patricia know you didn’t do it. Andrea—and Dale. You’re not an animal. And you’re not dirty. At least—you’re not any dirtier than the rest of us. And you didn’t do it. You wouldn’t.” 

It was so good. It was so right having her touching him like that. He moved enough to get his arm around her so that he could support her. She didn’t move except for to snuggle a bit closer to him and, resting her head against his shoulder despite the fact that it must have been a little uncomfortable, she seemed content to try and sleep again. 

And if she wanted to sleep on him, he’d let her. He’d let her stay there until they had to move because someone came for them. 

But she stirred before long and pulled away from him to straighten her back.

“You oughta sleep,” he told her.

“I’m fine,” Carol said. 

“What if—I was to lay with you?” Daryl asked. “Would you lay down then?” 

“You want to lay with me?” Carol asked.

Daryl nodded his head. 

He wanted her to lie down more than anything. She looked tired and Hershel had warned him, when he took him outside, that he’d given her something quite strong. He told him that he’d purposefully tried to buy her just a little peace. That’s what the pill was supposed to give her—a little peace. It was supposed to let her mind and her body rest and then, when everything was calm and he could think better and people were ready to listen, Hershel was going to talk to Rick and the rest of the group to figure out how they went forward from here.

Because Daryl, if he got his hands around Shane’s throat, still fully intended to kill the man for what he’d done, what he might have done, and what he couldn’t be trusted not to do.

And he’d very calmly told Hershel as much before Hershel had told him that he wanted to talk to him, again, in private and at more length—but first, he wanted to pay his final respects to his wife in peace. Daryl promised that, as much as it was within his ability, he would grant the old man that.

Daryl didn’t know what it was, exactly, to bury a wife, but he could imagine that it would be one of the worst things that could ever happen to you—especially if you loved her.

Daryl had never had a wife, and he was new to most kinds of love. So new, in fact, that he was still nervous to admit to himself that the word had been doing a great deal of dancing around in his brain for the past few days.

Carol accepted Daryl’s offer to lie down with him. He moved enough to let her know that he was going to lie with her, but he stayed back enough to let her get comfortable first. She found a position that she liked, facing him with her injured shoulder up in the air and away from the mattress, and he joined her. Facing her, he dared to rest his hand on her hip for some connection and she smiled at the simple touch.

“I know you might—be thinkin’ about what Shane said,” Daryl said. “About—goin’ from Ed to me?” 

“I wasn’t thinking about it,” Carol said. 

“I ain’t gonna be like Ed,” Daryl said. 

“I know you’re not,” Carol said. “You’re very different than Ed. Even—even when Ed was different than Ed. You’re still different.” She laughed to herself. “Did that make sense?” 

“Plenty,” Daryl assured her. “Still—I don’t want you to worry.” 

“I’m not,” Carol assured him.

Daryl nodded his understanding and readjusted himself to get more comfortable. Carol tried to offer him her pillow, but he pressed his hand against her hip to draw her attention enough to stop her. 

“I got a whole pillow here, Carol,” he said softly. “There’s like three more just right there if I was to reach my hand a half an inch. You don’t gotta give me yours.”

Carol nodded her understanding and settled back into her own pillow. She made a face when she moved and Daryl brushed her face with his finger. She closed her eyes to the sensation. 

“That shoulder OK?” He asked.

“It’s fine,” Carol said.

“You hurt it before, didn’t you?” Daryl asked.

Carol laughed quietly.

“Old football injury,” she teased.

“You didn’t answer Hershel when he asked you if you’d hurt it before,” Daryl said. 

“I didn’t have to,” Carol said. “He knew.” 

“I ain’t gonna let nobody hurt it again,” Daryl offered.

“That’s not your job,” Carol responded. 

“Then I’ll make it my fuckin’ job,” Daryl said. Carol opened an eye and smirked at him. He realized she was teasing with him and he laughed to himself. 

“It’s OK, Daryl,” Carol said. “Really. It hardly hurts.”

“You gonna rest it,” Daryl said. “He’s gonna be like our doctor—you oughta told him it was hurt before.”

“Like I said,” Carol said. “He knew.” 

Daryl brushed his fingers through the hair at her temple. Her hair was barely long enough to mention. He certainly couldn’t run his fingers through it. Still, it was soft against his fingertips and she looked like she enjoyed the affection. She closed her eyes and relaxed with a sigh.

“I didn’t say nothing to him,” Daryl said, continuing the gentle stroking of her hair, “about you an’ me while I was out there talkin’ to Hershel. But, Carol? I couldn’t help but notice that…that’cha didn’t tell him it was me. You didn’t tell him it was…mine.”

Carol opened her eyes to him and furrowed her brow.

“It wasn’t you,” she said. “It was Shane. Why would I tell Hershel it was you? He knew it wasn’t you.”

Daryl shook his head. He stopped petting her because, suddenly, he felt like he needed the comfort of having his own hand near him. He felt the need, as he often did, to check his nails for length and his cuticles for problems, and his other hand was trapped under his pillow. 

“When he asked if, well, if Soph was to not be your only kid, and you were to have another kid,” Daryl said. “You told him that it wouldn’t be Shane’s.”

Carol laughed quietly to herself.

“Because it wouldn’t be,” Carol said. “Daryl—Hershel was asking me if Shane…well, if he…took advantage of me.”

“I know what the hell he was askin’, Carol,” Daryl responded. “I’m not some kinda fuckin’ dumbass.” 

“I know you’re not a dumbass,” Carol offered. “But—maybe it’s the pills because I feel like a dumbass. I don’t know—I don’t know what I did wrong, Daryl…”

“You didn’t do nothing wrong,” Daryl said. “But’cha told Hershel it wouldn’t be Shane’s but…but you didn’t tell him it would be mine. Is that because you’re ashamed or something? You’re wishin’ that we hadn’t done anything together or you’re not wanting nobody to know?”

Carol stared at him, brow furrowed, and then she smiled sincerely. She sat up, resting herself on her good arm, so that she could practically lean over him.

“I didn’t tell him because—he already knew,” Carol said. 

“How’s he supposed to know what we done in a tent two nights ago, Carol?” Daryl asked.

“I just think he does,” Carol said. “And maybe…I thought you might not want everyone to know.”

“I’m not ashamed of you,” Daryl said quickly. 

“And I’m not ashamed of you,” Carol said.

“You just—didn’t say nothin’ to Hershel about it when he damn near asked flat out,” Daryl said. 

Carol laughed quietly. She leaned toward him and kissed his forehead. She moved to kiss his cheek. She kissed the tip of his nose. With each kiss, she laughed quietly. She laughed softly.

And with each little kiss, Daryl’s pulse picked up just a little.

She was sweet, and she was loopy, and she was being playful, and no matter how heavy his chest had felt even minutes before, now it felt the best that he could ever remember it feeling. 

And when her lips touched his, he came forward and made sure that she knew he wanted more than a little kiss with a laugh. He wanted a real kiss. He wanted a kiss like she meant it and like she wasn’t ashamed of him. He wanted a kiss that would let her know that he wasn’t ashamed of her.

She granted him that.

She smiled at him, sincerely this time, when she pulled away. She settled back down into her pillow.

“When he comes back,” Carol said, “I’ll make sure he knows.”

“You just gonna come right out and tell him that I asked about it so you had to tell him?” Daryl asked with a snort.

“He’s my doctor,” Carol said. “There are things I need to ask him and…there are things he needs to know.” She hummed at him. “Even if—Daryl? He already knows.”

“You think?” Daryl asked.

Carol yawned and closed her eyes. Daryl moved his hand back to her hip and relaxed into his spot. Seeing her feeling so sleepy was making him feel sleepy.

“I think everybody knows,” Carol said. 

Daryl patted her hip. He watched her for a moment. It didn’t take long of her lying still before her breathing started to even out. She was as beautiful when she slept as she was when she did anything else. 

“I think that’s alright, too,” Daryl offered. Even though he was fairly certain that she hadn’t heard his affirmation that he was fine with anyone and everyone knowing about whatever it was that was happening between them. 

He had a feeling, though, that she already knew.


	42. Chapter 42

AN: Here we are, another chapter here. 

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

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Daryl sat in the little area and waited where Hershel asked him to wait. He didn’t know if the little room was a sitting area or a foyer of some type or what. It was just a nook. A corner. And it had a couch that was too small to be a couch, but Daryl sat there and held down the little piece of furniture because that’s where Hershel had asked him to sit while he spoke to Carol in private—because Carol wanted just a moment alone with him.

Something had happened in the house, but Daryl didn’t know the details of what had happened outside of the room that he’d been inside all day. Something had happened that had eaten up the attentions of nearly everyone around there. The bodies had been dealt with, but there had been something that had followed that. Daryl had missed all of it, though, and so had Carol, because they’d been in the room where Hershel had asked them to stay.

The only reason that Daryl even knew that something had gone on was because Patricia brought them food, and Sophia, and their things from the tent like she was moving them inside. Andrea was supposed to bring the things from the tent, and when Daryl—worried that the woman had overworked herself when her lungs didn’t sound quite healed—had asked about her, Patricia said she was fine but that something had happened. Something she wasn’t going to talk about. 

When Hershel got there, he’d dismissed it as nothing that neither Daryl nor Carol needed to worry about. It was something handled. And he’d asked Daryl to sit outside and wait for him while he was in with Carol. 

Daryl waited, too, because Carol had asked him to and he wanted to grant her what little bit of privacy she requested for whatever reason she might want it. 

When Hershel came out of the bedroom, Daryl got to his feet immediately. He nipped at his fingernails to soothe over the anxiety he’d worked up while holding down the not-quite-couch. 

“She’s OK?” Daryl asked.

“Relax, son,” Hershel said. “She’s—she’s just fine. I gave her something else. Not quite as strong as what I gave her before. It’ll just help her rest through the night.”

“Is everything alright here?” Daryl asked.

Hershel sighed.

“Nothing you should worry about now,” Hershel said. “My daughter—Bethie—thought she might not…want to remain here with us. She said something to Maggie before we started this afternoon and Maggie thought she’d be better off here. She asked your friend, Andrea, to stay with Beth. To make sure she didn’t do anything since the smoke wouldn’t have been good for Andrea either.” 

“Maybe—Andrea weren’t the best choice for that,” Daryl ventured. “Dealin’ with your daughter, I mean.”

“It would appear not,” Hershel said.

“You daughter OK?” Daryl asked.

“She’s going to be fine,” Hershel said. “She nearly gave me a heart attack, but she’s going to be fine. I sat with her this afternoon and, she’s changed her mind. At least she knows now and—it wasn’t what it could have been. I could be mad about it, but I learned a long time ago that anger rarely makes any situation better. Maggie, however, didn’t respond well to Andrea giving Beth more space than she thought she should have.”

“They fight?” Daryl asked.

Hershel laughed to himself.

“Not quite in the same way that you and Shane did,” Hershel said, “but in their own way. I’m staying away from it for now. I don’t want to hear it. Not tonight. Emotions seem to be running too high tonight. Beth is alive and, for that, I feel blessed. I’ve asked Maggie to stay in her room. I don’t want anything else being stirred up around here.”

“Randall?” 

Hershel shook his head at Daryl. He knew who Daryl was talking about. Both of them, after all, had been at the bar the night that Hershel had run away from the farm. They both knew that there was a man—or barely more than a kid—tied up in one of Hershel’s barns.

“That’s not for tonight,” Hershel said. “He’s clean. He’s fed. He’s better off than some.”

“Shane?” Daryl asked.

“That’s for tomorrow, too,” Hershel said. “I told you. I’m tired. Not only do I not want to deal with it tonight, but I’m refusing to deal with it tonight. Tomorrow I’ll draw the whole group together and we’ll deal with what we need to deal with. Tonight, is for rest.” Daryl nodded his understanding of Hershel’s decree. “I mean that for you, too,” Hershel said. “I—talked to Carol.”

Daryl’s stomach knotted up a bit. He had a good idea what Carol might have wanted to talk about, but he had no idea how she might go about it or what Hershel might think about it.

“What’d she say?” Daryl asked, hoping that Hershel couldn’t sense the anxiety that he felt like he’d bragged he might be able to with his vet training. Hershel smiled to himself. 

“It’s certainly not the worst thing I’ve had to deal with today,” Hershel said. He cleared his throat. “You’re under my roof, Daryl. You and Carol both. And you’ll stay under my roof until the time comes that you leave my farm—whenever we decide that time will be.” 

“We can go back to our tent,” Daryl said.

“I’m afraid the tent has been dismantled,” Hershel said. “Sophia is more comfortable on that mattress on the floor and she needs room to stretch and—and to crawl. I think it’s better if you stay right where you are for now.” 

Daryl nodded his head.

“Appreciate it,” he offered, not sure what else to say.

“My children know that if they live under my roof,” Hershel said, “then they live by my rules.”

“But we ain’t your children,” Daryl offered. Still, even saying that, he couldn’t help but get the feeling of being a child in the old man’s presence. Hershel Greene bore little resemblance to Rooster Dixon. Instead of giving Daryl the feeling that he was actually in the presence of his father, he gave Daryl the feeling that he was in the presence of a man who was what he might identify as quintessentially a father—something very unlike anything that Daryl had ever known before. 

“As long as you’re under my roof,” Hershel said, “I’m sure you’ll understand if I make little difference.” Daryl nodded his understanding.

“We ain’t tryin’ to make your life hard,” Daryl offered.

Hershel laughed to himself.

“I haven’t always been a religious man,” Hershel said. “I found religion to save myself. Not to save others. I’m not blind to the ways of the world or anything like that. There are things that I would prefer to happen a certain way, but…I know that the world is not what it used to be. The world is not even what it was months ago.”

“Always been true,” Daryl said. 

“It has,” Hershel said. “Daryl—Carol tells me that, if she were to have another child, it would be your biological offspring. Do you agree with that?” 

Daryl swallowed.

“I mean—I think it’s a kinda shitty way of sayin’ it,” Daryl offered. 

Hershel laughed to himself. He wasn’t offended, at least, with Daryl’s honesty.

“My words,” Hershel said. “Not Carol’s, exactly. “I’m not going to tell anyone what they should and shouldn’t do when it comes to relationships. Not when they’re grown and certainly not when the world is what it is. I am going to ask you something, though, and I don’t want you to answer me until you’re sure that the answer you give is the answer you mean.”

“I understand,” Daryl offered.

“If Carol were to have another child,” Hershel said. “Would you take responsibility for that child?”

Daryl was struck by the question. He was mostly struck by how it was so absurd to his mind that it was automatically humorous. 

“You serious?” He asked. “I don’t even have to think about it. Of course, I would.” 

Hershel smiled to himself. 

“I didn’t expect any less,” Hershel offered in response. He reached a hand out and clasped the upper part of Daryl’s arm. “In which case—and for as much as it mattered to you while you’re living under my roof—you have my blessing son.”

“You mean to…” Daryl stammered, slowly realizing what Hershel was, essentially, granting him.

“I mean to be Carol’s partner,” Hershel said. “And everything that you and Carol respectfully decide that means.”

Daryl laughed to himself. 

“Thanks,” he said, deciding he didn’t fully hate the sound of such a thing. “I mean—I guess.” 

“Just—Daryl?” Hershel said. Daryl hummed at him in question. “Mind that right shoulder,” Hershel said before he dropped his hand from Daryl’s arm and left Daryl standing there. 

Daryl waited outside a moment, surprised at the unexpected butterflies in his stomach that the whole conversation had stirred up, and then he let himself into the room. 

Carol was in bed, under the cover, and she was reading from a book. On a mattress for a twin bed, on the floor, Sophia slept. If she were to wake and crawl off, there was relatively little trouble she could get into and, on the floor, she wouldn’t suffer an accidental fall from the bed if she woke without Daryl and Carol hearing her. 

“I just talked to Hershel,” Daryl said. 

Carol smiled to herself. She put the book on the nightstand and she folded her arms across her chest. 

“And?” She asked.

“What exactly—if you don’t mind my asking—what exactly did you…ask him about?” Daryl asked. 

“You really want to know?” Carol asked. She moved over and made room for Daryl to sit on the edge of the bed next to her.

“Wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to know,” Daryl said. “I mean—if you want to tell me. I guess, really, it’s your business and it ain’t none of mine. Unless you want to share it.”

Carol laughed quietly. She reached for his hand, and he let her have it. She held it in hers and squeezed his fingers in a methodical way that he found relaxing despite the soreness in his fingers.

“I asked him to—you know—look at everything and check to see if I was healthy,” Carol said. “I didn’t have great care with Sophia and—I haven’t seen anyone since she was born. I just—wanted him to tell me if he thought I ever had any chance of maybe, in the future, having another baby.” 

“You asked him to…to examine you?” Daryl asked. “Look you over?” 

“To see if everything was…as it should be,” Carol said. “If everything healed. After having Sophia. See—I’m sorry I told you this because your face…”

Daryl hadn’t realized he was making a face. He hadn’t meant to make a face, but there was a lot going through his mind suddenly. He did his best to make his face a blank canvas. It wasn’t easy for Carol to share this. 

“No—I wanna know,” Daryl said. “I just—I don’t know much about babies and hell, women even. You know that. But I wanna know. So—what’d he say?” 

“As far as he can tell,” Carol said, “everything is as it should be.”

“So, you’re gonna have another kid?” Daryl asked. His stomach knotted in response to the words.

“I could have another kid,” Carol said.

“Same difference,” Daryl offered.

“Not exactly. See, Daryl, I was with Ed a long time before Sophia came. And then, out of nowhere, she came. But—I might not have another one.” 

“Lori’s gonna have one,” Daryl offered. “It’s one of the reasons Shane’s so fucked up right now—I mean besides just the loose screw that’s shakin’ around in his fuckin’ skull.”

“Lori’s a little younger than me,” Carol said. 

“So?” 

“It matters,” Carol said. “And then—there’s just luck. Biology. Every woman’s different and every body’s different and…”

“But Hershel says it could happen,” Daryl said. 

“There’s nothing that he can see—just at a glance—that would stop it,” Carol said. 

“OK then,” Daryl said.

“OK?” Carol asked.

“OK,” Daryl said. “Then we right back where the hell we were, ain’t we? I mean—anything changed that I missed. You could have a kid. It could—it could be mine.”

“But I might not,” Carol said.

“But’cha might not,” Daryl agreed.

“Would that—be a problem?” Carol asked.

“If you didn’t?” Daryl asked.

“Is that something you would want?” Carol asked.

“A kid?” Daryl asked. Carol nodded. “I mean—I never thought about it, really, before. I mean I thought about it like—like you think about those things…like you think about what would I do if this happened. But I never really thought about it. But I mean—yeah. If you had a kid. I’d want a kid.”

“And if I don’t have one?” Carol asked.

“Then…” Daryl hesitated. He honestly had lost his thread somewhere. He’d dropped it. He felt like he was lost in a maze. “Then—I wouldn’t want what I don’t have?” 

Carol laughed.

“Are you asking me or telling me, Daryl?” Carol asked.

“To be honest, I don’t fuckin’ know,” Daryl said. He swallowed down some frustration that he could feel building inside him. “I think you lost me a couple of turns back to be honest.”

Carol laughed again. She smiled at him, but there was something that wasn’t entirely sincere. There was some sadness in her eyes that made Daryl’s gut react. She raised his hand and, in an unexpected gesture, she kissed his fingers.

“How does it make you feel if I were to tell you that I could never give you a child, Daryl?” Carol asked.

“Sad,” Daryl said. She made a face. It looked like she’d been slapped and Daryl pulled his hand free from hers so that he could hold hers instead. Hers was small in his hand. It was small and delicate next to his. He squeezed it affectionately. “It makes me sad because—it sounds like you’re puttin’ a lot on yourself, Carol. It sounds like you’re sad and I didn’t want you to be sad. You weren’t sad the other night—before Shane. Before—we ever started talking about any of this after Shane. You weren’t sad when we talked about it before him…”

She hadn’t been sad, either, when Hershel had given her the other pill. Daryl decided he’d make it a point to tell the old man that, if he felt the need to dose her again, this one wasn’t the pill for her. This one didn’t give her any peace. It wasn’t giving Daryl much peace, either, at the moment. 

“It does make me sad,” Carol said. “Because—I’ve been thinking about it, Daryl, and if you want a baby? I want you to have that. But if I can’t give you that, then I still…I still want you to have that.” 

Daryl’s stomach didn’t care at all for what his brain was trying to tell him that Carol was saying. He didn’t care at all for what he knew she was saying. His only response, for a moment, was to hold her hand tighter in his—to work it in his—like his hands just wanted to say what his brain couldn’t quite voice. He didn’t want to let go of her hand. Not then and, maybe, not ever.

“Gotta admit,” Daryl said, his voice catching in his throat. “I didn’t come in here ready for this. I was ready for—for you to invite me in, Carol. I thought—hell—I thought you were gonna let me sleep with you again. In a bed this time. The most proper it could be. I didn’t think I was comin’ in here for you to…put me out. And that is what it is, isn’t it? You’re…uh…you puttin’ me out. Outta the room. Outta—whatever this is. Outta your life.” 

“I’m not,” Carol breathed out. The knot in Daryl’s chest loosened just a little. “That’s not what I wanted at all. I wanted—I wanted to ask you if you wanted to…to be with me. I wanted to feel you, Daryl. All the way. Every way. I wanted to sleep with you.”

“Then what the hell are you doing to me?” Daryl asked. “Because—what I’m feeling right now? It hurts. Like a whole fuckin’ lot more than my hands do.” 

“I just want you to have what you want,” Carol said. “And—at the end of the day? Daryl—I don’t know if I can give you everything you want. I don’t know if I can give you anything you want.” 

Daryl swallowed against the painful lump in his throat. He would have rather held broken glass in his palm than feel the suffocating pain that was invading his chest. 

“I don’t know if you can give me everything I want,” Daryl said. “Hell—I don’t know if I can give you everything you want. But I know—I know you can give me some of what I want. I know that most of what I want right now is you. That oughta count for somethin’, shouldn’t it?”

“There could be someone else,” Carol said. “That could give you more.”

“I don’t want nobody else,” Daryl responded. He felt an odd sensation like anger bubbling up inside him. He almost welcomed it because it numbed some of the pain. “Listen—you want me to stay here tonight or you don’t. But—how about you don’t tell me I gotta have someone else just because that’s what you want me to have? Huh? How about—you just don’t do that.”

“Please don’t wake up Sophia,” Carol said, keeping her voice very soft. It reminded Daryl to lower his own voice. 

“I don’t want somebody different,” Daryl said. 

“You don’t know that,” Carol said. “You might…”

Finally, Daryl decided that the only way to stop her was to lean forward and steal the words right out of her mouth with a kiss. She didn’t fight the kiss and it wasn’t long before it seemed like she’d forgotten that she was trying to give Daryl women that she was finding for him along some path that he couldn’t even see. It wasn’t long before she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him to her, and she didn’t complain when he’d pulled the cover back and slipped his hand under the oversized shirt she was wearing for a nightgown. 

“You slippery,” Daryl informed her, breaking the kiss, when she shifted her body enough to spread her legs and allow for his fingers to find the passage they sought. 

“That’s going to happen a lot, I think,” Carol said. “I might’ve had a little help. It’s just aloe.”

“Like from the plant?” Daryl asked. 

“Like from the plant,” Carol said. “It’s a natural—you know. Lubricant. Daryl—do you want to talk about it, or do you want to take advantage of it?” 

Daryl was curious, but he wasn’t that curious at the moment. He’d decided, in the few minutes of heavy kissing with Carol, that it was the pills that had sent her tripping off on some terrible trip through a pretty dark fucking forest—and she’d accidentally dragged him along with her and tried to get rid of him along the way—but the kissing had turned the affect of the pills around. 

And she was pink cheeked and panting and looking at him in a way that had him caring about very little else.

And too much talking, at that moment, he was afraid might just send them back into the dark forest in Carol’s mind.

So, he answered her the only way he knew how without talking. He pulled away from her only long enough to shed his clothes the fastest he’d ever come out of them before while she rid herself of the shirt she was wearing, and then he’d savored the feeling of being welcomed back right where he wanted to be—right where he was afraid she might never welcome him again. 

And he made note that aloe, even if he didn’t have all the facts on it, was a plant that it was never really bad to have around.


	43. Chapter 43

AN: Here we are, another chapter here. 

Please note that we’re not going with canon exactly, in case you might have forgotten that. LOL

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!

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“It’s my farm, and what I say goes,” Hershel said blankly.

“You can’t just stomp your foot and demand that like a child,” Lori said.

Hershel laughed.

“Actually, I can,” Hershel pointed out. “Because the fact remains that this is my farm. This is my home. Everything here? I built it. The livestock—I raised it. The vegetables? I grew them. The wells? I helped dig them. With these hands. This is my farm.”

“You would put good people out for going against your wishes?” Rick asked.

“I would put my own children out for not knowing their place in this world and not remembering that respect is something that I will not allow them to live without while they’re under my roof,” Hershel said. 

“Look—all we’re saying is that it’s a hard world out there,” Lori said. “And it’s a world that—that maybe you haven’t seen. Maybe you don’t understand…”

“Young lady,” Hershel said, “I have seen far more of this world than you have. And I would venture to say that I have suffered more of the hardships that she has to offer than you have. Perhaps a good many people in this room have.” 

Hershel had told Daryl that they wouldn’t discuss any of the “business” on the farm until he was ready. His decision to discuss things had been announced when he’d invited anyone who cared to join him to gather wherever they could sit and enjoy lunch—a lunch consisting mostly of vegetables and beans and some stewed meat from a few rabbits and more than a handful of squirrels that Daryl hunted off the back of the property.

Hershel’s demands had been that no business would be discussed during the meal and, for that reason, the whole thing had been eaten in almost complete silence while everyone made eyes at each other to try to decide who fell into what camps on which issues.

When he’d finished his lunch, and when he was satisfied that it was time to talk about everything that hung heavy in the room, Hershel had very calmly made a few more demands. Shane was asked to step outside. And, when he protested that it was unlawful for someone to essentially be put on trial when they weren’t there to plead their case, Hershel had informed him that they would take it all the way to the Supreme Court—if that’s what Shane wanted—just as soon as such a system was reinstated and functioning in the country.

Shane had left, but not without a great deal of frustration and some choice words that he carried with him even as he marched across the field to, presumably, blow off some steam.

The first thing that Hershel had done was to inform those that were unaware that there was a young man named Randall who was locked in a barn. The night that Hershel had left the farm, they’d encountered Randall and his groupmates. Those he’d been with had clearly been less than desirable people. They’d killed some of Randall’s groupmates, but only out of self-defense, and the others had fled when they’d realized that they weren’t getting the upper hand against Daryl and his companions. 

Randall had been injured and left behind, so they’d brought him back, Hershel had patched him up, and now he was living in a barn, like a side of beef, until they could figure out what worked out as the safest thing for everyone. Randall could, after all, bring people back to the farm if he were returned to his people. He could be a threat to the group. 

Daryl’s suggestion had been to simply kill the guy. He’d consider it an extension of the self-defense that they used to soothe the hurt of having had to kill the others, and he’d do it himself if he had to for the safety of the group.

But his companions couldn’t stomach that and, as Rick said, they weren’t the kind of people that killed people—except when they did—so he’d suggested that the best thing to do would be to blindfold Randall and drive him out to a place where he’d never be able to find his way back to the farm. Then they’d release him and leave him to fend for himself.

In Daryl’s opinion, it was mostly killing Randall with a few more steps involved, but he wasn’t going to argue too much to save the time and spend the bullet.

It was worth noting, too, that Lori had been a hundred percent behind the idea of driving Randall out to the middle of nowhere and leaving him with nothing more than their well wishes, but her song had changed a bit when Hershel—without even changing his tone like he thought he’d be fought on it at all—suggested that Rick, as long as he was taking people places, might very well blindfold, bind, and take Shane with him.

Shane was unstable and a threat, in Hershel’s opinion. Having him there required keeping women and children under almost constant supervision and, as far as he could see, that was no way to live. It wasn’t how he wanted people living on his farm. Not only did he feel it was best if Shane went, but that was simply how he expected things to be.

“I won’t have you lecturing me on how hard the world can be,” Hershel said.

Daryl chewed at the dry skin on his lip. Beside him, Carol held Sophia on her lap. She held his hand with her other hand. 

He had never been so interested in the fallout from a conversation that he wasn’t directly involved in as he was in that particular conversation. 

“Look—maybe we can talk about this,” Rick offered.

“I think we’re done talking,” Hershel said. “I’ve said what I have to say on the matter.”

“And so now you’re just God?” Lori asked.

“No ma’am,” Hershel said. “I am not nearly God. I am just Hershel Greene. A retired veterinarian. A farmer. And a man trying to do the best he can by his two daughters and those that God has entrusted into his care. And part of doing the best that I can for them is keeping them safe from wolves of the four-legged and the two-legged variety.” 

Across the room, Dale was owl-eyed. Practically sitting in his lap for what comfort she might find there, Andrea was somewhat curled up. She was forgiven for allowing the youngest daughter—not present in the discussion—a little more freedom than what Maggie would have wished her to have, but it was clear that she worried that being too obvious might get her thrown in the trunk of a car with a gag and little hope for a future.

“I’m just saying that—everyone is under a lot of stress lately,” Lori said. 

“I agree,” Hershel said. “I know that my family has been under a great deal of stress accommodating this group. I know that Carol has been under a lot of stress since Shane nearly dislocated her shoulder and threatened her in my yard. From where I’m standing, Shane has the least to be stressed about of anyone here. And the stress he has, it seems he’s brought upon himself. Unless—you have anything you’d like to enlighten me on?” 

Lori fell silent.

“Shane knows where the farm is,” Andrea said. “I’m sorry, but—if we’re really worried about? He’ll be able to find his way back here.” 

Daryl laughed to himself.

“Then it’s settled,” he said. “We kill him, too. We can save the time and the gas. We can save stayin’ awake at night wonderin’ if he’s ever comin’ back. Give me a few minutes and a fuckin’ shovel and we don’t gotta talk about this shit again.”

“We don’t kill people!” Rick barked at him. “Hershel, look, you’re convicting a man over something that—I’m sorry, Carol—over something that he can’t have a fair trial over. We’re condemning him as guilty.”

“Because he’s fuckin’ guilty!” Daryl barked, standing up. 

Sophia howled, suddenly, at the loudness or the shock of Daryl’s words and he immediately reached for her. She came to him, despite her fear over the noise, and he cuddled her against him, quietly apologizing to her for scaring her in his annoyance. She continued to fuss, but she did it with a lot less conviction and a lot more evidence of nearing her naptime.

“He’s fuckin’ guilty,” Daryl said softly. “You ain’t gonna pin this on me. None of you gonna pin this shit on me. I ain’t fuckin’ done it.”

“Relax, son,” Hershel offered. “Nobody’s blaming you.”

“I’m not blaming you, Daryl,” Rick echoed.

“But you callin’ Carol a liar,” Daryl offered.

“I’m not calling anyone a liar,” Rick said. 

“Well if she ain’t a liar Rick, then what the hell’s Shane need a trial for?” Daryl asked.

“I’m with Daryl on this one,” Andrea offered.

“You know what? Nobody asked you!” Lori spat suddenly in Andrea’s direction. “You’re at least half the reason we could be asked to leave this farm after that little stunt you pulled yesterday.” 

“Stop it!” Hershel said loudly. It got the attention of everyone, including Sophia, and Hershel moved close enough to Daryl to pat Sophia’s back as a way of trying to soothe over her dislike of loudness in general. “Everyone stop. I have spoken to Andrea. I’ve said what I had to say to her. I’ve spoken to my daughters. That matter? It’s settled. I have witnessed Daryl and Carol’s relationship for the past two days—they have allowed me a very intimate view into their relationship—and I rest entirely assured that Daryl did not put his hands on Carol in any way that she would not approve of. He did not manipulate her into accusing an innocent man. I am an old man. And I am tired. I have known nothing but—turmoil and strife since you got here. I am too tired to deal with it any further. This is my land. This is my house. And my rules are the only rules that matter here. You can live with them or you can leave. I don’t care which you choose. Now—I don’t care how you deal with Randall or Shane. But I want them gone from this property. Neither of them is welcome under this roof or on this land. That’s all I have to say about it.”

“Wait,” Rick said. 

Hershel looked at Rick like, for the first time in perhaps a very long time, he was considering punching someone straight in the nose to close a discussion. He maintained his calm, though.

“What do you want, Rick?” 

“I understand that we’ve been—horrible houseguests,” Rick said. “And most of that—if not all of it—has come from what we’ve seen out there. What we’ve experienced. I’m through making excuses for Shane. I’m not making excuses for him anymore. I’m just going to say that he’s been my partner. He’s been my best friend for a long time. Give him the opportunity to calm down. Give him the opportunity to—to see things clearly. Let me talk to him.” 

“You can talk until you’re blue in the face,” Daryl said. “But’cha do it out there, that’s what he’s saying.”

“Let me put him in the barn,” Rick said. “Take Randall out there somewhere…do what you asked. Let me take Shane with me. Talk to him. We’ll keep him—in the barn. He’ll be away from everyone. Everyone will be safe. We’ll give him a chance to calm down.” 

Hershel considered it a moment. 

“I don’t want to see his face,” Hershel said. “And I don’t want to hear his name.”

“I promise,” Rick assured him. 

Hershel nodded his head and left the room. He left all of them to deal with their messes and what he’d said. 

Daryl needed a moment, so he turned to Carol, his face against the side of Sophia’s head, and gestured gently in the direction that would take him to the room they shared.

“I’ma go—see if she’ll go down for a nap,” Daryl said. 

“She might be hungry soon,” Carol said.

“You come feed her if you want,” Daryl said. “But I’ma take her and try to put her down, just the same—if you trust me.” 

Carol smiled to herself and nodded her head.

“I trust you,” she said. 

“You gonna be OK?” Daryl asked.

Carol glanced across the room in the direction of where Andrea was sitting. 

“I’ll be fine,” she said. “I’ll be there—in a minute.” 

“Fine,” Daryl said. He kissed the side of the baby’s head and breathed in the smell of something specifically Sophia that he found there. Without speaking to anyone else, he started across the room. He stopped a moment, when he heard Lori say something to Carol, just to make sure that he didn’t need to say anything to the woman that had intercepted Carol on her way to speak to Andrea.

“I hope you don’t think—anyone’s calling you a liar,” Lori said. “I hope you don’t think that I was calling you a liar.” 

“I haven’t thought much about it,” Carol offered.

“It’s just—I’m looking out for our people, you know? Everyone—this hasn’t been easy for anyone, Carol. And—I’m just trying to look out for our people.”

“I understand,” Carol said sincerely. “Where’s Carl?” 

“He’s—playing,” Lori said. “He’s—I think he’s outside playing.”

Carol smiled at Lori and nodded her head. She reached out and patted Lori’s arm before she quietly continued on her way to speak to Andrea. 

And Daryl wondered if Lori had even realized what Carol had said without saying it. He shook his head and kissed the side of Sophia’s face again. She hummed at him with satisfaction and bumped her head against him to request another kiss. He granted her another before he continued on his way to the bedroom to try to rock the little girl to the point where she might succumb to sleep. 

There was nothing else, out there, that he felt he needed to witness.


	44. Chapter 44

AN: Here we are, another chapter here! 

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111

Carol stepped into the little room they barely left these days. She didn’t have any desire to leave the room. It felt safe and welcoming. It was unlike any space she’d ever occupied before. 

“Rick’s gone,” Carol said. “I guess he’s going to take Randall. Maybe Shane. I don’t know. I didn’t ask. He didn’t ask anyone to go with him.”

Daryl laughed to himself. Carol stepped around the bed and smiled to herself at what she saw. On the twin mattress on the floor where Sophia slept and napped, Daryl was lying on his back. Sophia was napping on his chest. Carol sat on the bed where she could see them.

“Who the hell was he gonna ask to go with him?” Daryl asked. “Glenn don’t got the stomach for it. That Jimmy ain’t but a boy. Dale don’t support havin’ Shane around ‘cause he’s scared of him hurtin’ Andrea. Hershel’s said what the hell he’s gonna say about. T-Dog don’t give a rat’s ass. And he knows if he asks my ass to go, I’ma put a bullet in both of ‘em soon as he pops the trunk or whatever.” 

“I don’t think they’ll both fit in a trunk,” Carol said. 

“If you was to cut ‘em up small enough, they would,” Daryl said. Carol must have made a face because he laughed. “I’m kiddin’. I wouldn’t waste my time like that. They ain’t worth it. As long as they gone, Rick can get rid of ‘em how he wants.”

“Lori is being terrible to Andrea,” Carol said. “I think Hershel told Andrea and Dale they could stay inside the house, but since he didn’t invite Rick and Lori back inside…I don’t know. And I think Lori’s just…she’s just after Andrea after what happened yesterday. I think it’s pushed Andrea and Dale to just go back to the RV.”

“Lori’s pissed that her boyfriend’s gone,” Daryl said. “Gotta take that out on somebody. Guess she figures it might as well be Andrea. Kick her while she’s down. She better be careful, though. Andrea gets to feeling a little better and she ain’t gonna take that shit sittin’ down no more.” 

“You know Sophia’s asleep, right?” Carol asked.

Daryl brushed his hand over Sophia’s back, but the baby didn’t mind. She was far away from them and anything that might be happening in their world. 

“She went out quick,” Daryl said. “Almost before I got her even settled.”

“You know you don’t have to stay with her,” Carol said. “She’ll sleep fine on her own.”

“I thought about it,” Daryl said. “But I didn’t have nowhere to go. And I’m not goin’ out there again until near dusk for huntin’. I thought—she likes sleeping like this and I kinda like just havin’ her here.”

“You didn’t have to be on the floor,” Carol said.

“I was kinda napping myself,” Daryl explained. “This way—if I was to doze off? And she was to wake up and go one of her crazy adventures around the room, she wouldn’t fall off the bed or something and break her neck.” 

Carol laughed to herself at the explanation. 

“Do you want me to leave you alone?” Carol asked. “So, you two can nap?” 

Daryl hummed.

“Bed ain’t too big, but I can scoot all the way over. Might make a little more room. Best thing I think would be if—you were to get on down here with us.” 

“Well,” Carol said, “I guess—I don’t have anywhere to be either. Not until Patricia needs some help with dinner.” 

111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111

It was dark except for the light that shined from the farmhouse and the few scattered lights from the tent-based shanty-town in Hershel’s front yard. 

Glenn and Maggie were occupying the swing on the porch. Daryl knew because he’d spoken to them on his way out the door. On the other end of the porch, Patricia was rocking in a rocking chair. 

All was quiet in the tent-town they’d constructed, but most people were still awake. It was that kind of night. It was just about the right temperature, the mosquitoes weren’t too much of a bother, and it felt like the kind of night to stay up a little later than usual.

Walking across the yard and looking back over his shoulder, Daryl could pick out which window was theirs. It was odd to think they had a window in the farmhouse, but they did. Hershel had spoken. Sophia deserved to be in a real bedroom in a house. Daryl stopped walking and turned to look at the window. He could see little more than shadows. The window was open, but the curtain was still drawn. Carol was in there. She’d be dressing Sophia after her bath. She’d be bringing Sophia to the porch soon, like she said she would, to rock her and nurse her. 

Daryl lit a cigarette and stood there smoking it until he saw the light go out in the window. She would be bringing the baby to the porch. As soon as he was done with his rounds, he could join her there. He could rock Sophia after she ate because he was the best at getting her to sleep—Carol told him that every time he got the little girl to close her eyes.

Daryl’s rounds were self-appointed.

A hunting knife and a pistol with six bullets in the chamber were all that he needed. Daryl’s own pistol had gone missing. Someone had snagged it from his tent, maybe when they’d disassembled the tents that belonged to him and Carol, and it had disappeared. The pistol he currently carried was one that Dale had offered him out of their gun stash that he kept hidden in the RV. He’d asked Hershel, but Hershel didn’t have a pistol to give him. Still, he hadn’t exactly seemed bothered that Daryl was borrowing one to carry. Hershel hadn’t appointed him to his rounds, but he wasn’t exactly against them either. Daryl wasn’t intentionally setting out to kill anyone, but if things had to happen—he would do whatever he happened to have to do.

Rick had taken Randall and Shane down the road somewhere. According to his own story, he had unloaded them somewhere. He was going to let Randall lose. He had the opportunity to talk to Shane. Everything was going to be perfect and Randall was going to be gone and Shane was going to instantly morph into a different human being—and then they’d been overrun with Walkers. In the midst of all the magic, the three of them had barely made it back to the car with their lives.

Rick was going to get rid of Randall—but he needed more time. He needed to find another place, far away, where he could dump him. He needed to find somewhere that wouldn’t automatically condemn the young man to death.

And Shane? He was going to make some kind of full recovery into the land of not-crazy-as-shit. All he needed was a couple days in Hershel’s barn—or however long it took Rick to convince Hershel to let Old Yeller out of his pen. 

Daryl was fine as long as they were locked away. He wasn’t going to fight what Rick and Hershel had agreed upon. But he was going to fight the moment that Rick suggested leaving either of the two storage barns unlocked. 

Earlier that day, lying on the twin mattress with Carol curled around him, her leg and arm tossed over him as she found a way to stay in the small space provided to her, and with Sophia sleeping soundly on his chest, it had dawned on Daryl that he would do anything—absolutely anything—that he had to do to protect them. Shane Walsh meant no more than a bug to him, and if he had to smash him to keep them safe and help them sleep peacefully at night, he wouldn’t hesitate. And he’d take whatever punishment he earned for it—on Earth or elsewhere.

Daryl didn’t exactly distrust Rick. He thought Rick was an all-around good guy. He thought that Rick genuinely wanted the best for his family and he at least labored under the illusion that he was doing the best for everyone at all times. Daryl didn’t distrust Rick, but he did think that Rick saw through some pretty thick rose-colored glasses.

So, he took it upon himself to make the rounds and check the barns. He checked the chains. He checked the locks. He rattled the doors, ignoring the howls from inside the two different little barns where their semi-prisoners were locked up. He was satisfied that they were secure, and just starting back across the property, when he heard the blood-curdling screams. Those screams gave way to other screams, but the blood-curdling ones struck Daryl to the core.

There was a very distinct sound to someone truly screaming for their life.

He took off running in the direction of the screams without hesitation. 

It was dark, but it wasn’t hard to follow the sounds. Daryl made his way through one of the cow pastures, closing in on the noise even as he saw flashlights, like fireflies, coming from the direction of the house. 

As he came up on the site, things were worse than he thought. He found Dale fighting with a Walker that was on top of him, and Daryl threw himself at the Walker to roll it off the old man. As soon as he could, Daryl got his boundaries and stabbed his hunting knife into the rotted skull of the Walker. Getting to his feet, he yelled at the swarm of fireflies to come in his direction and waved his arms so they could find him. 

Immediately, he knew it wasn’t good. Dale was lying on the ground, panting, and his guts were ripped open. 

Daryl had seen more than his share of gutted animals before.

Immediately, there was a swarm of people. Everyone was coming, it seemed. Andrea hit her knees next to Dale and her voice became the next most easily identifiable sound around him. She was holding onto Dale. She was begging him to hold on. Begging him to look at her. She was offering him some comfort.

She didn’t know, yet. She didn’t realize that comfort was all she could offer him.

Carol was there, but Daryl assumed that she’d left Sophia with Patricia at the house—somewhere where it was safe. She wouldn’t have known who it was anymore than the rest of them. She might have even suspected it was Daryl himself that had been injured. Most likely, Dale had stepped out to use the bathroom or assure himself that all seemed safe, and he’d ended up like this—torn apart by the first Walker they’d seen since the barn doors had been broken open.

Daryl’s stomach ached as he came to terms with the reality of the moment. 

Andrea was sobbing pathetically on the ground. Rick was screaming for Hershel—for someone to bring Hershel. Everyone was essentially begging everyone else to do something. Daryl knew, deep down, the only thing that could be done.

When Hershel got there, he got down on his knees next to Andrea. He knew, though, and Daryl knew that he did, exactly what Daryl knew. So, when Glenn asked if they could move him back to the house, Hershel answered him honestly. Dale wouldn’t survive the move. When Rick insisted that Hershel go and get his supplies to perform surgery there, Daryl understood what Hershel’s head shake meant.

Andrea saw it, and she understood it, too. She put her head against Dale’s chest and cried, still holding his hand. 

This time, when she begged pathetically for someone to do something, Daryl was certain that she wasn’t asking them to try to stuff his guts back inside and sew him up like this had never happened. 

Rick pulled a pistol from his own holster and he waved it around in Dale’s face for a moment. People turned their heads and hid their eyes and Andrea sobbed over the approaching loss of the man who had been a friend and practically a father to her since the world had turned upside down. But Rick couldn’t pull the trigger and taunting Dale with the gun was only making things worse. Besides the fact, he kept looking away like he couldn’t bear to look when he pulled the trigger and his jerking was making his aim erratic. 

For a moment, Daryl actually feared he might pull the trigger and, trying to save himself from seeing what none of them wanted to see, he might accidentally miss and shoot Andrea.

Daryl wasn’t sure, though, that Rick’s wife would find that any great loss.

Daryl pulled his own gun, and he pushed Rick out of the way. He made eye contact with Dale. He didn’t want to see the old man die anymore than anyone else did, but he couldn’t stand to see him suffer, either. 

“Sorry, brother,” Daryl offered, genuinely meaning the words, before he pulled the trigger. 

Andrea’s loud and desperate cry was the only sound that pierced the night after the ringing of the gunshot had quieted.

“Let’s go back to the house,” Lori said, somewhere behind Daryl, apparently wrangling her son or some others up. “Let’s go…back to the house.” 

Daryl turned and caught Carol’s attention. She was standing there, arms crossed across her chest, trying to offer him some silent strength. 

“Go back to Sophia,” Daryl said. “I got this.” 

She patted his shoulder, nodded her understanding, and started back to the farmhouse. Daryl didn’t know anyone’s plans, but it seemed that most of them were simply leaving. He didn’t know if they intended to come back. 

He stood there, for a few moments, beside Andrea as she stretched out on the ground, draped over Dale’s chest, and wept for her loss. He let her have her grieving—it was the least he could give her. 

Having found themselves left entirely alone; Daryl jumped when he felt a hand clamp onto his shoulder. He turned quickly, prepared to take down the Walker that would threaten him or threaten the sanctity of Andrea’s moment. 

“Easy, son,” Hershel said. Daryl immediately relaxed. “I’ve got Glenn and Maggie digging already. I thought the three of us could move him. We can call for Rick if we need to. He deserves to be at peace tonight.” 

Daryl nodded his head.

“I just don’t understand where the Walker come from,” Daryl said. “We ain’t seen one for days.”

“Probably out of the woods,” Hershel said. “Otis kept the creeks clear but…Otis is no longer with us.” 

“Lotta that goin’ around,” Daryl said. He bent down and rested a knee on the ground. He touched Andrea’s back and she shook him off. When he touched her again, she accepted the gesture for the affection that it was supposed to bring.

“It’s Dale,” Andrea sobbed.

“I know it is,” Daryl said.

“Please,” Andrea begged, but Daryl wasn’t sure what she was begging him for. He was almost certain that she didn’t know either. “Please—it’s Dale.” 

“You’ll want to help us bury him,” Daryl said. “He’d like it if you were there. Seems proper you oughta be there to see him off…say goodbye.” 

“Yeah,” Andrea said, her voice coming out still stilted by sobs. 

“Need a hand?” Daryl asked. He reached his hand down and caught her, helping her get to her feet. She staggered around a moment like a newborn deer learning to use her feet in the thick field grass. “She’s got nobody,” Daryl said quietly, leaning toward Hershel. “But—nobody.” 

“Don’t worry,” Hershel assured him in a voice that was barely more than a whisper. “Once he’s buried, I’ll take care of her.”


	45. Chapter 45

AN: Here we are, another chapter here.

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

111111111111111111111111111111111111111111

“Can you hold her?” Carol asked, passing the baby to Andrea. The woman looked more like she’d been up all night drinking than she’d just woken up from a restful sleep. She gladly took the baby, though, and cuddled her against her. Sophia tolerated the affection, and even offered Andrea something of a smile around the toy she was chewing on. “Sit down. I’ll get your breakfast.”

“You don’t have to wait on me,” Andrea said.

“It would take me as long to tell you where I put it as it’ll take me to get it,” Carol said with a laugh. “Sit.” Andrea did sit down. At the sink. Lori finished up the last of the breakfast dishes. Carol retrieved the plate of breakfast that she’d saved from under the pot lid that she’d found to fit the plate perfectly—better at keeping the food warm than the oven or microwave would be—and she grabbed some silverware. Andrea thanked her as soon as she put it in front of her, and she thanked her again when Carol poured her a cup of coffee. “Trade you,” Carol said, taking Sophia back. “The coffee’s hot. The breakfast might not be.” 

“If you want hot breakfast,” Lori said, “then you should probably eat it when we serve it.”

“Lori…” Carol said, trying to plead with the woman.

She knew that Lori was pregnant and, therefore, possibly suffering from a few emotions she wasn’t quite in full control of at the moment, but Andrea was probably suffering from an overload of emotions all her own. Carol knew that Daryl had gotten in and showered pretty late and, even though he’d still been up for breakfast, he hadn’t quite dealt with the same emotions as Andrea had—even though he’d dealt with a few because there was guilt for pulling the trigger, even though there’d been no better option.

Carol also knew that Lori was nursing a really foul mood for the fact that, over breakfast, Hershel had shut down her desire to further discuss letting Shane roam free again. Rick was going to talk to him. Rick was going to deal with him. But Hershel didn’t want to discuss any thought of reconsidering his verdict that Shane was no longer welcome on the farm. 

But Andrea wasn’t exactly at the highest point of her life, either.

“No, Carol!” Lori barked. “I’m going to tell the truth. If you want a hot breakfast, then you should get up in time to be at the table. Even better, you might consider making it up in time to help cook breakfast. But you conveniently missed breakfast and dishes, all the way around. There’s always lunch, though, right? Or will you be too busy hiding out at the RV like you usually are?” 

Carol’s stomach was suddenly in knots. Lori had punctuated her anger by throwing the dish towel at the table in Andrea’s direction. 

Andrea, for her part, looked stunned for a moment. Then something else took over for the stun she must have felt.

“Excuse me,” Andrea said, “are you calling the time I spent—learning to handle a rifle and learning to keep watch against Walkers with Dale hiding out? Learning to keep this place safe?”

“This place isn’t safe, Andrea,” Lori said. “If you haven’t noticed, we have Walkers.”

“Lori,” Carol said. She felt practically pinned down to her spot as though she’d stepped in ankle deep concrete and stayed still long enough for it to set. 

“We do have Walkers,” Andrea said. “And one of them—one of them killed Dale. But I haven’t been on watch for Walkers for a while because it’s been too dangerous to go outside. We have a—a madman that you’re supporting who’s just wandering around out there. A violent…”

“Don’t you start with Shane!” Lori barked at Andrea. “He has done nothing to you!”

“Not yet!” Andrea said. “Who’s to say he wouldn’t? Look what he did to Carol! Who’s to say he wouldn’t do worse to Carol or Maggie or Beth?” 

“You care so much about Beth, don’t you?” Lori spit back. “You care so much about her that you tried to get her to kill herself.”

“I didn’t put a damn gun in her hand, Lori!” Andrea barked. She hit her feet and Carol backed up against the counter near her a bit more because she didn’t want to get caught in the middle if the two of them lost their control and this turned into a true catfight. “I gave her space. I gave her room to decide for herself.”

“She doesn’t get to decide for herself that she wants to commit suicide!” Lori barked back. 

Carol rocked Sophia who was, surprisingly, much less bothered by the yelling taking place in the kitchen than she was whenever any of the men around her wanted to raise their voices too loud. 

“She absolutely does get to decide!” Andrea said. “She has to decide! She knows she wants to live, now, so she will! If you take her choices away, she’ll find a way if she really wants to do it.”

“Just like you?” Lori asked. 

“I chose to live,” Andrea said. “I may not know that—what I’m hoping for? I may not know that I’m going to get it. But I chose to live. I can see that makes you angry. But Beth—she had to make her own choices. There’s not that much hope left in the world, Lori. She had to decide if there was enough for her to hold onto.”

“She should understand that suicide is not an option,” Lori said. “You should have made that clear. This world isn’t easy for any of us, Andrea.”

Andrea laughed to herself.

“Least of all for you,” Andrea said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lori asked.

“I won’t count Carol’s husband as a treasured loss,” Andrea said, “but he was her husband and he was a loss. She nearly lost her daughter. She was attacked and brutalized by Shane. She was threatened. She was demeaned and made to sit there and listen while you…while you defended him.” 

“Shane has been through a lot,” Lori said.

“And Carol hasn’t?” Andrea asked. “Look at Daryl. He’s lost his brother and, though Merle may have been more trouble than he was worth most of the time, Daryl loved him. I have lost…I have lost everything, Lori. Everything. I have nothing left. But you? The hardest thing in your life is that you had to wash dishes without an extra person to split the chore with.”

“You don’t know anything about my life,” Lori said. “I thought I lost Rick. And I have…I…Rick works for this group. He advocates for this group and he worries about this group all the time! My son was shot! This hasn’t been easy for me, either!”

Andrea laughed to herself. Carol wondered, for just a moment, if she might actually slip over that last little barrier that held them all in the plane of sanity.

“Your husband came back,” Andrea said. “Your son is fine. And I can’t really say that Rick is advocating for our whole group.”

“I’d like to see you do any better!” Lori said. “Everything he’s done has been for this group.”

“Everything he’s done has been for you,” Andrea said. “And when we look at it that way? He’s doing pretty well. You’ve practically taken over Hershel’s home, you boss around everyone around here, your son took all the antibiotics we had so that…people almost died, Lori.”

“But you didn’t,” Lori pointed out.

“And I’m sorry that pisses you off,” Andrea said.

“OK,” Carol said. “Everybody stop. Just stop! This is getting out of hand. This is not who we should be. This is not going to help anyone.” 

She might as well have not said anything at all. She might as well not even be in the kitchen. The two women were ignoring her entirely.

“Don’t act like some kind of martyr,” Lori said. “You’ve had Daryl looking out for you. Dale.” 

“Daryl gave me antibiotics because he didn’t want me to die,” Andrea said. “Dale—Dale’s dead, Lori. Or maybe you weren’t there last night because you were too busy being a martyr and feeling sorry for yourself because, even though you still get to keep your husband, your son, and your…your baby, you might actually have to give up your boyfriend so the rest of us can have just a little peace.”

Lori looked at her, open-mouthed. Andrea glared back at Lori.

“You have no right,” Lori offered, but there was much less bite behind the words than there had been. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“We all know what I’m talking about,” Andrea replied.

Lori looked at Carol, then, but Carol really felt there was relatively little that she could say. Then Lori turned and, without saying anything else, she left the kitchen. 

Andrea stayed where she was for a moment, fists balled up tightly at her sides, and then she sat down in the chair where she’d been seated. 

“I’m sorry,” she breathed out.

“I don’t think it’s me you owe any sort of apology,” Carol offered.

Andrea laughed to herself.

“I didn’t say anything I didn’t mean,” Andrea said. “Even if I didn’t mean to say it.” 

Carol walked over and pulled out the chair across from Andrea. Her intention was to sit with Sophia in her lap, but she thought better about it. She offered the baby over to Andrea. Sophia furrowed her brow at Andrea, and bucked a little like she had no intention of going to her, but as soon as Andrea asked her nicely, she succumbed. She was even more pleased when Andrea moved her close enough to the table that she could reach the cold scrambled eggs on Andrea’s plate. 

“I won’t ask you how you’re feeling,” Carol said.

“Good,” Andrea said. “Because I don’t want to talk about it. I’m sorry I missed breakfast and ruined everybody’s lives.” 

Carol laughed to herself. 

“Maggie, Beth, Lori, Patricia, and I were all in here,” Carol said. “I could have practically prepared the meal on my own. It wasn’t that big of a deal.”

“But it was the dishes that really pushed her over the edge,” Andrea mused. While Sophia filled her mouth with bits of scrambled egg—which had to be cold and disgusting at that point, but she seemed to be enjoying it—to top off her breakfast from earlier, Andrea picked up a piece of the meat from her plate and nibbled at it.

“The worst part about it,” Carol said, “is that she really didn’t wash that many dishes. She finished up a coffee cup and a few glasses.” 

“Then it’s just me who brings out the best in her,” Andrea said with a chuckle.

“You know that’s not true,” Carol said. She sighed. “She’s upset because she tried to reopen the discussion about Shane at breakfast. Rick’s talked to him—he’s talking to him again. Lori says the way we deal with what Shane’s going through isn’t by punishing him, it’s by supporting him. Keeping him locked in a barn like an animal isn’t going to make things better…he needs to feel valued by the group.”

“I’m glad Sophia’s enjoying my breakfast,” Andrea said. “Because that? Makes me not want to eat.” 

“Hershel didn’t really like the discussion,” Carol said. “He shut it down. He said that, even if that’s the case, he’s a veterinarian and not a psychiatrist. And we don’t have the resources to deal with this if it’s something like a…like a psychotic break or something.” 

“And so, Lori’s mad because I didn’t kill myself,” Andrea said, “and we obviously had the resources to keep that from happening.” 

“You didn’t break from reality,” Carol said. “Neither did Beth. And I don’t know if that’s what’s going on with Shane or…”

“If he’s been driven to break from reality,” Andrea mumbled. “You can only take so much.”

“My point is that you and Beth? It’s an entirely different thing,” Carol said. “Like you said—you had to decide that you wanted to live. Things haven’t been easy for you. And they haven’t been fair. And, honestly? I’m sorry if I’m—adding to that in any way.”

“Adding to it?” 

“I mean Daryl and—Sophia’s doing great,” Carol said.

“I’m not some kind of animal,” Andrea said. She kissed the top of Sophia’s head and Sophia offered her a handful of scrambled egg. “You eat it,” Andrea told the baby. “Yum, yum…you eat it. Carol—I…I saw what you went through with Ed. Just a little while of it. And Daryl? I’m glad you found him. That you found each other. I’m glad that…Sophia is perfect and growing. Just because I don’t have anything? Or—anyone? Jesus—it doesn’t mean that I don’t want anyone to be happy.” 

“You will have something,” Carol said. 

“I appreciate your never-ending optimism,” Andrea said.

“I just like to believe that good things come to good people,” Carol said. She laughed to herself. “Maybe you don’t get the husband, and the boyfriend, and the two kids, but…you’re not going to just be alone forever. You’ll find someone and you’ll have a family.” 

“Thanks,” Andrea said. “Really. That means a lot.” 

“Until then, you’ve got us,” Carol offered. “You don’t have nothing.” 

“I appreciate it,” Andrea said. She frowned at her plate, though, and kept her eyes away from Carol. Carol didn’t take it to heart. She wasn’t going to tell Andrea how to deal with anything she might be feeling at the moment. 

“I have to ask it,” Carol said. “Because I care. You—said you decided you’re living. That didn’t change last night, did it?” 

“Everything changed last night,” Andrea said. “Except that.” 

“Good,” Carol said. “Eat something. Then we’ll see if we can find something to do so Lori can get back to worrying about Shane and not so much about you.” 

“OK,” Andrea said. “But I’m not apologizing, Carol. So, I hope that—you don’t think I am.”

“She wants to bring Shane into the house,” Carol said. “Give him a room to recover in. Possibly just down the hall from my daughter. I’m not asking you to apologize.”


	46. Chapter 46

AN: Here we are, another chapter here. 

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!

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Daryl and T-Dog burned the Walker that had killed Dale just after breakfast. Then, under Hershel’s request, they’d helped him with some work that needed to be done on one of the pumps, providing him with extra hands to make things easier. Daryl employed T-Dog’s help in cleaning out a rabbit hutch that was in storage in one of the barns—an item that Hershel said they could use. They moved it to a better location and set it up. Later that afternoon, when Daryl went out checking traps, setting new ones, and looking for whatever they might convert into an evening meal, he bagged the three rabbits he’d snared and, instead of killing them, he delivered them safely to the hutch where he figured they could start to earn their keep by producing more rabbits which could very well mean the difference between meat and no meat during the winter.

Hershel wasn’t mentioning them leaving—at least not as a whole group. Over breakfast, Lori had tried to reopen the debate about Shane, and Hershel had made it pretty clear that he wasn’t budging on Shane getting off his property, but he wasn’t mentioning the rest of them going. Instead, he was casually mentioning the canning that would need to be done. He was casually mentioning getting his old smokehouse up and functioning again for meat. He was talking about preparing for winter, but he certainly wasn’t making it sound like he intended for them to be gone before winter came.

Lori could argue for Shane’s rights all she wanted. And Rick could get manipulated into helping her all he wanted—though Daryl did think that Rick sometimes looked like he was confused as to exactly why he was defending Shane. 

As for Daryl, Shane was better off in the barn and he’d be even better off when he was out there somewhere, far away from the farm. He was a danger to Carol and, now that his attack wasn’t a secret, he would probably be a greater danger to her. He may even be a danger to Sophia. There was very little as ruthless as an arrogant man protecting his pride. 

His pride, arguably, might even be more valuable to Shane than Lori was.

Daryl was happy with Shane, at the very least, shackled. And Daryl wasn’t going to do anything to rock the boat and get them all thrown off the farm. He would gladly play by the old man’s rules because he believed, at the end of the day, Hershel’s rules were reasonable and he was concerned with the welfare of others. If everything worked out well, Daryl thought might eventually talk Hershel into letting him lay claim to an acre or so of property. He might build a little house just beyond the largest of Hershel’s barns. He and Carol might live there with Sophia and have a simple life contributing to the farm and enjoying what the hell the land gave them.

Daryl didn’t mind the idea of doing without the stress and strain of the so-called civilization that they’d once known, especially if they could find a way to keep Walkers out.

And he was already thinking about things he might suggest to Hershel to strengthen their defenses.

As evening settled in, and dinner was almost ready to be put on the table, Daryl and T-Dog got tasked with the job of taking a meal out to the barn-dwelling lock-ups that hadn’t been disposed of properly yet. Each of them carried a plate and a small jug of water.

“If he starts bitchin’ about the food being late again,” T-Dog commented, as they crossed the yard. 

“Bitch all they want,” Daryl commented, “but they oughta be damn happy they gettin’ fed. I was gonna feed both of ‘em a bullet…so they don’t want me to hear complaints over all the hell they got.”

T-Dog reached the barns before Daryl because Daryl slowed his steps significantly. Tucking his jug of water under his arm, Daryl burrowed around in his pocket to find the keychain that he’d shoved in there on their way out the door. It held the keys for the barn locks and the handcuff locks, but he only needed the keys to the heavy locks that kept the chains on the doors. He wasn’t generous enough to uncuff either of the assholes to eat. They were cuffed in front and he figured that was good enough.

“Daryl…” T-Dog said as he approached the barn.

“Yeah,” Daryl said. “Comin’. Damn keychain got hung…”

“We don’t need it,” T-Dog said. 

“The hell are you talkin’ about?” Daryl responded.

“The keychain,” T-Dog said. “The keys. We don’t need ‘em. The barns are open.” 

“What the hell are you talkin’ about?” Daryl repeated. This time, though, he got a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He double timed his steps to reach T-Dog and stood there staring at the chains that had held the locks. On each of the two little storage barns, the locks were open and the chains were hanging off the handles. 

Daryl dropped the plate and jug he was holding without even thinking about it. He didn’t realize that he’d dropped them until the jug, opening on impact with the ground, splashed him with water. 

He didn’t really need to open the barn doors to know that the handcuffs were going to be every bit as open as the chains had been. Inside the first storage barn, there were the familiar bags of fertilizer and seeds, along with a few buckets and gardening utensils. Those items had been there since the first time they’d opened the old wooden doors. On the floor of the barn was the plate and jug from an earlier meal—one they were meant to take back after dropping off dinner—and a blanket. On the blanket were the discarded set of handcuffs and the chain that had kept the cuffed prisoner somewhat tethered to the wall in their confined space.

The second storage barn looked much the same except that, looking into that barn, the back of it was practically an extra wall of heavy bags of animal feed.

Shane and Randall were both gone. Daryl stepped into the barn where Shane had been held. He picked up the lock and examined it. There was no damage to the lock that he could see. There was no evidence of a struggle and, if a tool had been used to pick the lock, Shane had taken it with him. Daryl stepped out of the barn and walked back to the second. He searched for a tool among the blankets by pushing them around with the toe of his boot, but there was nothing there. 

He stepped back outside and examined first one exterior lock and then the other.

T-Dog was standing there, frozen, still holding the plate and water that he’d been given. The plate Daryl had been given, luckily was plastic or it would have broken when it hit the ground with the jug. 

“They were picked or opened with a fuckin’ key,” Daryl said. “Either way, there weren’t no chains cut here.” 

“Maybe Rick took them somewhere,” T-Dog offered. “Maybe he took them off and left them somewhere like he was supposed to.”

“I never saw the car leave,” Daryl pointed out.

“Me either,” T-Dog admitted, “but I wasn’t really looking, either.”

Daryl accepted that for a fraction of a moment. There had been a lot going on. He’d been occupied by other thoughts and he hadn’t really given much thought to what anyone else was doing. It was possible that the car had left and he’d let the sound of it simply fade into background noise because it was of little concern to him.

Daryl glanced back over at the farmhouse. The spot where the car would have been parked—the one that Rick would have most likely taken since it was the one he’d taken before—was blocked from Daryl’s view by the RV.

“Was Rick in the fuckin’ house?” Daryl asked.

T-Dog shrugged. 

“I wasn’t paying attention to that, either,” he admitted. 

Daryl picked up the plate off the ground and the jug. He shook off the extra food for the ants and poured the water that was left in the jug over it to somewhat wash it away and minimize the mess. 

“Why the fuck didn’t he tell anybody what the hell he was doin’ ‘fore he had us haulin’ food out here. Somebody coulda eat this shit…”

Daryl started toward the house. T-Dog was right behind him. With every step he could feel frustration growing. Why in the world would Rick send them out there? Why wouldn’t he bother telling them what he’d done? He was too distracted these days and it was starting to show. This shit was minor, but he couldn’t go around thinking he had some kind of control over everyone while simultaneously doing whatever the hell he pleased and not even telling anyone what was happening. 

By the time they got in the house, Daryl was practically fuming over the whole thing and T-Dog was following him and stammering out ridiculous explanation for why Rick wouldn’t even bother informing everyone that he’d taken care of carrying off the garbage.

“Rick!” Daryl called as he walked through the farmhouse. He took the plates directly to the kitchen and, without explanation, put the dirt-covered plate he’d been carrying in the sink. He washed his hands and dried them on his pants. “Rick!” 

“He’s upstairs,” Patricia offered. She was one of several people spooning food from pans into serving dishes to take it to the table—the sound of the front door having signaled Daryl and T-Dog’s return would mean they were preparing to go to the table for the evening meal. Everyone else would be washing up to get ready to eat.

“Daryl? Is something wrong?” Carol asked.

“What do you need with Rick?” Lori asked.

Daryl ignored all their questions and left the kitchen. He walked to the bottom of the stairs and called up. 

“Rick!” 

Rick came almost instantly down the stairs. As he descended, he cocked his head to the side. 

“Is there something wrong, Daryl?” Rick asked.

“Yeah there’s somethin’ wrong,” Daryl said. “When the hell was you gonna tell me and T-Dog that we didn’t need to haul plates out there to feed Shane and Randall?” 

Rick laughed to himself, but Daryl got the feeling it wasn’t really sincere. He stood on the bottom step with his hand still on the railing. 

“Are we planning on starving them out now or something?” Rick asked.

By now, dinner was abandoned in favor of seeing what all the fuss was about. Daryl got the feeling he was being surrounded and glanced around him to see that was essentially true. Even T-Dog, who arguably knew as much about the situation as Daryl did beyond the inspections of the locks and chains that Daryl had done, was looking at him like he had no idea what he was about to say.

“When did you haul Shane and Randall outta here?” Daryl asked.

“What are you talking about?” Rick asked.

“Shane and Randall,” Daryl said. “When did you take ‘em outta the damn barns and off the farm?” 

Rick furrowed his brow at Daryl.

“I haven’t left the farm today,” Rick said. “I’ve only been out to the barns once, and that was this morning.” 

Daryl’s stomach dropped. He was pretty sure it was located somewhere between his feet. He had a sinking suspicion that something might be up, but he’d been able to push it back with the explanation that Rick had taken them off the farm. He’d been able to keep his worries at bay by focusing on being annoyed at Rick’s little self-engrossed slip.

“Shane and Randall ain’t out there,” Daryl said.

Rick dropped down off the step and started toward the door. In the nature of every person who had ever heard something they couldn’t process and proceeded to do something stupid about it, Rick walked to the door and looked out like he could see the little barns and their contents or lack thereof. 

Instantly, Daryl knew that Rick had nothing to do with it. Rick wasn’t a stellar actor, and he was absolutely shocked.

“What do you mean they aren’t out there?” Rick asked.

“I mean the barns were open,” Daryl said. “And the cuffs were just layin’ on the floor.”

“They escaped?” Glenn asked. 

“Mighta found a way to slip the cuffs,” Daryl said. “But that’s some fuckin’ Houdini shit to get out. The barn was locked from the outside.”

“Where are the keys?” Hershel asked.

Daryl reached in his pocket and produced the keys on the plastic tag that advertised a feed store that must have been in the area.

“Where’s the other set?” Hershel asked. “Rick? I gave it to you.” 

“And I gave it to Glenn,” Rick said. “Today when he took lunch.” 

“And I put it back on the hook when I came in from taking them lunch,” Glenn said.

“It’s on the hook,” Andrea called out. “It’s right here…”

“Did you lock the damn doors back?” Daryl asked. “Who else went with you?” 

“Maggie,” Glenn said quickly. “It was Maggie—and me. We took lunch. We opened the doors, gave them the food. Picked up the breakfast dishes. And we left. The same as always. Maggie fed Randall. I fed Shane.”

“Did he say anything?” Rick asked. “Talk to you?” 

“Same thing he always said,” Glenn said. “He was innocent. I had to let him out of there. It wasn’t how we handle things.” 

“Randall begged like he always does,” Maggie said. “Tried to promise he’d help us out or something.”

“And you locked the doors back?” Daryl asked.

They looked at each other. The look they exchanged couldn’t have been easier to read if they’d actually shrugged at one other. 

“Did you lock the damn doors back or not?” Daryl asked. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Rick said. 

Daryl wanted to point out that it mattered a great deal. But pointing that out would only lead to more discussion and, perhaps, disagreement. It would lead to wasting time. They didn’t really have time to waste. 

“We gotta look for ‘em,” Daryl said. “They’re loose. We don’t know what Randall’s capable of, but we know Shane. We know he’s crazy and we know what the hell he’s capable of.”

“If the whole idea was to get rid of them,” Lori offered, “then why not just be happy we’re rid of them? Isn’t that what you all wanted? That they’d be gone?” 

“Miles from here,” Daryl said. “Not in our backyard an’ not pissed off. There’s no tellin’ what they might do.” 

For once, Rick seemed to agree with him. He nodded his head and turned around to address the group—everyone, by this point, having crowded around together.

“Everybody stay in the house,” Rick said. “Hershel, Glenn, Jimmy? Keep watch here. Me and Daryl and T-Dog will walk the perimeter. They had to leave on foot—we’ll see if we can’t figure out where they went.”


	47. Chapter 47

AN: Here we are, another chapter here.

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

1111111111111111111111111111111111111111

They walked the perimeter of the farm looking for signs of where Shane and Randall might have gone. There was more than one set of footprints, though, and not much that Daryl could follow without a little more indication of where to look for the correct trail.

“I don’t fuckin’ know without followin’ what I’m seein’ for a while,” Daryl said. “Could be them. Could be Walkers. Hell—could be other things. Only thing I can tell you is that there’s been some decently heavy traffic through here in the last couple days.”

“Maybe we should just let them go,” Rick said. 

“It ain’t the lettin’ go I’m worried about,” Daryl said. “It’s the comin’ back.”

“We keep watch,” Rick said. “We have people on guard twenty-four seven.”

“And fuckin’ what, Rick?” Daryl asked. “We gotta decide that because that’s where the hell our trouble’s been for all this time. That’s why the hell we out here in the first damn place. So, what do we do when we see ‘em comin’ back, Rick? We shoot ‘em when we see ‘em or we offer ‘em some damn lemonade? Nobody else wants ‘em around, Rick. Nobody but your wife. Maybe your son. Maybe you. But nobody else wants ‘em back.” 

Rick looked like he might respond. He clearly thought about it a second and opened his mouth to respond, but he never got a clear opportunity because he was interrupted by shouting. It was coming from the woods, and it kept coming. 

Daryl immediately recognized the voice as Shane’s and he raised his crossbow and prepared to fire it. 

Shane stumbled into sight among the trees, calling out for Rick. 

“Rick! Rick—you gotta help! You gotta help—it’s Randall! He got loose! He’s got a gun, Rick! He’s got a gun and—he wants revenge! He wants the farm! We gotta stop him before he gets too far! He said he’s got a camp!”

Rick reached over and touched Daryl’s crossbow to suggest that he should lower it. Daryl did lower it so that it wasn’t pointing straight at Shane’s face—a face that was bloodied from what appeared to be a broken nose, or, rather, a re-broken nose since Daryl had broken it once before—but he didn’t drop his guard entirely.

“Slow down,” Rick said, employing the cop voice that immediately ground on every one of Daryl’s nerves. “What happened?” 

“He got fuckin’ loose,” Shane said. 

“What do you mean he got loose?” Daryl asked. “How the hell’d he get loose? He was chained up in a damn barn that was chained up from the outside.” 

“I don’t know,” Shane said. “I don’t know, man. I guess he must’ve picked the locks. Figured out how to get out. Maybe someone forgot to lock the door. Glenn and Maggie came out there—they don’t always pay attention. The point is—he told me I had to go with him. He had a gun. I didn’t have a choice. He has a camp and he’s going to bring his people back here to try to take the farm.” 

“Where the hell’d he get a gun from?” Daryl asked. 

“I don’t know!” Shane barked. “We’re wasting time! He’s out there and every minute we stand here arguing he’s getting closer to doing something.”

“Shit don’t sound right to me,” Daryl offered. “Not considering the source.”

Shane—with the broken-again nose, who had been kidnapped by Randall and forced to leave, and who had come back to try to save the group—somewhat lunged at Daryl, but caught himself.

“You’re wasting time with all this bullshit!” Shane spat.

Rick immediately reached his hands out and pressed them against Shane’s chest.

“Easy, brother,” Rick said. “We’ll walk the woods. Look for Randall. Daryl—why don’t you and T-Dog go that way, and Shane and I’ll go that way. We’ll cover more ground that way.” 

“Good idea,” Daryl said. “Spread out. I need a little space.”

Daryl stayed where he was for a few moments and watched as Rick and Shane walked off. T-Dog stood beside him and waited patiently for the two men to disappear into the woods. When they were gone, T-Dog spoke.

“You believe any of that?” He asked.

“I believe he got out,” Daryl said, “because the barns are empty. I believe somethin’ broke his nose again or knocked it outta place again or somethin’, but I don’t know what the hell it was. You?”

“If it weren’t for the blood,” T-Dog said, “I doubt I’d believe his nose was broken.”

“All the same, we gonna look for Randall,” Daryl said. “And if we find him, we’re gonna finish this shit. Be careful, though. Keep an eye out. Just in case Shane ain’t lyin’ and some damn way he got himself a gun.”

Daryl chose to go in the direction from which Shane had come. Having freshly come through there, he left a distinct path. It seemed only logical to Daryl that Shane would come directly from wherever he managed to get away from Randall—if even a single word of his story could be counted on to be true—and that would at least give Daryl a strong starting point to help him find some kind of trail to follow in order to track down Randall. 

Following the trail wasn’t that hard. As Daryl walked, T-Dog followed right behind. He didn’t bug him and he didn’t ask him a lot of questions. He simply let Daryl do what he needed to do, and he kept watch around them to help Daryl make sure that they weren’t about to end up getting caught on the wrong side of a gun. He also did his part by putting down the two Walkers that they happened upon while they were searching.

It was T-Dog, though, that noticed Randall first. Daryl was busy looking down—directly down—while T-Dog scanned the area around them. When he got Daryl’s attention, he barked his name a couple of times and wildly tapped him on the shoulder.

Randall was lying in the thick leaves around them. 

“So, he broke out the fuckin’ barn like damn Houdini,” Daryl said. “Conjured up a fuckin’ gun. Kidnapped Shane, broke his nose again, an’ then he just got bit?” 

T-Dog closed the distance and approached the body. He bent down and turned the body over so that Randall was face up. Then he rolled the body a bit more and searched it.

“I don’t see any blood,” T-Dog said. “No bites. I mean his face is a little bloody, but…”

“What?” Daryl asked. “What the hell you mean? He’s a little damn young to just be dyin’ for the hell of it.” 

Daryl leaned down by the body and searched it over quickly for a bite. There wasn’t one. He furrowed his brow at T-Dog.

“There’s clear signs of a struggle here,” Daryl said. “Dirt an’ leaves kicked up. Someone busted him in the face. Walkers don’t usually throw punches.”

“The last Walker we saw wasn’t bloody,” T-Dog said. “And there’s no blood on the body.” 

“No,” Daryl said. “But—look at this.”

“What?” T-Dog asked.

“This,” Daryl said. “This right here. His neck’s broke. You see a gun over there?” 

“No,” T-Dog said, looking around. “He could have dropped it. It could be in the leaves.”

“It ain’t in the fuckin’ leaves,” Daryl said. “And he died from a broken neck. I don’t know what the hell happened, but I know what the hell didn’t happen. Come on—let’s get back to the farm. Make sure everyone’s OK there.”

“What about Rick and Shane?” T-Dog asked.

“Rick’s a big boy,” Daryl said. “And he’s been sayin’ he can handle Shane and he can talk to Shane. Let him have him. Right now, I’m more worried about shit runnin’ downhill to the farmhouse.”

“Yeah,” T-Dog said. “Yeah, you’re right. Besides—Rick and Shane’ll probably come back there. We can tell them about Randall then.”

“Them coming back there’s what I’m worried about.” Daryl walked over and, pulling is knife out of his belt, he slammed it through Randall’s eye. “I don’t wanna worry about him comin’ back, too,” Daryl said. 

T-Dog didn’t argue with Daryl. There was really nothing to argue about and Daryl was leaving, one way or another, so T-Dog’s choices were either to continue to wander alone through the woods or to accompany Daryl back toward the farmhouse. 

It was starting to get dark. Night was quickly descending around them. It wouldn’t be long before it was really too dark to be out wandering around. 

On their way down the hill they heard a gunshot ring out. It was impossible to tell where it came from and it only made them both pick up their steps. 

For the time being, their tent-town was abandoned. There were lights in almost all the windows of the farmhouse, giving it that warm and welcoming glow of just another night. Daryl was relieved to see it because, in the absence of chaos, he knew that everything was fine. There were no problems. They would have plenty of time to prepare for anything that Shane might be planning.

Andrea met them as they were nearing the porch with one of Dale’s guns in her hands.

“What’s goin’ on?” Daryl asked her. “Was that you that fired the gun?” 

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” Andrea said. 

“Probably just a random shot, then,” Daryl said. “Someone else. Somewhere else. Far away—just carried. Hell, at least I hope that’s what it was. Anything happen here?” 

Nothing yet,” Andrea said. “I’ve been keeping watch in case Randall and Shane somehow missed you and showed up here.”

“Randall ain’t gonna be showin’ up anywhere,” Daryl said. 

Before he could really tell Andrea anymore of the story, the porch door opened and at least half of their group spilled out in search of explanation. 

“What’s going on?” Lori asked. “Where’s Rick?” 

“We found Shane,” Daryl said. 

“Where is he?” Lori asked. “Where’s Rick?”

“Shane said that Randall got out the barn somehow,” Daryl said. “Said he got a gun from somewhere. Said he came an’ forced him to go with him. He had a group somewhere and they were gonna show up here and try to take the farm by force or whatever.”

“Where are Rick and Shane?” Lori asked.

“He’s trying to tell us!” Andrea barked. 

Daryl held his hand up at her to calm her. The two of them had been going at each other for a bit, and Daryl didn’t want any more drama to deal with.

“As I was sayin’,” Daryl said, “Shane said Randall—beat him up or somethin’. I don’t know. He weren’t with Randall an’ his face was bloody. So, they went off lookin’ for Randall one way, and we went off lookin’ for Randall the other. We found Randall.” 

“Did you kill him?” Andrea asked.

“Didn’t have to,” T-Dog said. “He was already dead. With a busted lip and a broken neck.”

“What happened to him?” Lori asked.

“Being as I didn’t have my damned crystal ball,” Daryl said, “I’m not exactly sure. What I do know know is that we ought to be on guard in case it ain’t Randall that we ever had to be worried about wantin’ to do somethin’ to the farm. We oughta be on guard in case anybody comes back here lookin’ for trouble.”

“Where’s Rick?” Lori asked. 

Daryl narrowed his eyes and gritted his teeth to keep from losing his temper with the woman. He tried to make it a point to be as nice to women as he could—even when they really deserved to be told just how fucking annoying they were—but Lori was trying him. Thankfully, T-Dog understood that and stepped in.

“Rick’s with Shane,” T-Dog said.

“And you just left him out there when you don’t know what happened?” Lori asked.

“We came here to tell you to watch out,” Daryl said. “Get the guns. Get in the house. Be prepared. If you don’t gotta do nothin’, great, but it’s better to be ready for whatever the hell might be coming our way.” 

“Daryl’s right,” Hershel offered. “We’ll go in the house. We’ll keep watch from inside. But we’ll stay in the house.”

“You can’t just leave Rick out there!” Lori barked.

“He’s a big damned boy,” Daryl said. “And Shane’s his best friend, right? His partner. Shane’s—turnin’ over a new fuckin’ leaf. Nothin’ for us to be worried about. Sorry for all he’s done, right? That’s what the hell you been tellin’ us. So there ain’t no need to worry. Rick’s out there with Shane.” 

“You know he’s…you have to go after Rick,” Lori said. “He doesn’t know what happened to Randall.” 

“Neither do I,” Daryl said.

“Maybe Shane doesn’t know either,” Lori said. “Maybe there’s some other threat out there. Some other people. Shane said Randall had a group. Maybe something happened and they killed him. Maybe they’re out there right now with Rick and Shane and…they don’t even know.”

Daryl growled to himself. 

“Fine!” He yelled. “Get in the damn house. All of you. Stay in there. Keep the doors locked. Keep some guns close by. Be ready if anything happens. T and me’ll see if—if we can’t find Rick.”

Daryl was more than aware that nobody moved into the house immediately. He was more than aware that they remained on the porch, waiting to see what might happen or letting things sink in, and he was aware that Andrea remained several feet from the porch with Dale’s gun in her hands. He knew it would take a few minutes for them to actually take what he’d said to heart and to move toward protecting themselves in the house. 

At any rate, he and T-Dog turned and started back across the field and back toward the woods.

When Daryl stopped, T-Dog stopped, too. It was hard to tell if he stopped just because Daryl did or because he saw the same thing that Daryl saw.

It took a moment to distinguish, with the tricks that the hour played on their eyes, what was happening. For just a moment, it looked like the trees were moving. 

And then Daryl realized what it was.

He turned quickly and started back toward the house to warn them. He didn’t have to go far because most of them were still on the porch. Andrea was still several feet away, frozen to her spot for a moment. 

They saw it, too.

Rick and Shane were on their own. For the time being, it seemed that Shane might be the least of their worries. 

“Walkers!” Daryl yelled out, running for the house to grab whatever he could to help fight off the veritable wall of Walkers that was marching toward the farm.


	48. Chapter 48

AN: Here we are, another chapter here! 

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

11111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111

They tried to meet the herd while it was still some distance away from the farmhouse with the idea of taking care of the problem before the herd was able to get close to the farm and, with the sheer force of the combined number of Walkers, destroy any and everything they needed for survival.

The herd that they were facing, however, was enormous and, arguably, their defenses were minimal. They hardly had enough weapons to go around, they were low on ammunition for those weapons, and there weren’t enough hands to engage the Walkers with knives and to have any hope of success. 

Around him, Daryl watched as chaos erupted.

People, when they were desperate, would do nearly anything. 

He fought alongside everyone that was fighting for as long as he could. He fought long enough to drain all the ammunition that he’d been able to scrounge for two guns. He fought long enough to see the largest barn on Hershel’s property catch on fire. And, when someone moved the RV toward the barn for some reason, he saw that burn as well.

He fought long enough to hear every variety of screaming.

When he saw the flaming Walkers coming through the fire of the barn and heading straight for the farmhouse, though, Daryl knew that it was time to stop fighting. 

He ran back toward the farmhouse, yelling at Carol and the others that it was time to go. It was time to take any vehicle that would move and it was time to get off the farm. There was a moment when everyone had to know that a situation was hopeless. 

Daryl had grabbed one of the small sacks of ammunition and firearms out of the larger bag they had. In the sack he had tossed around his shoulder, there was one revolver left and a small, opened box of bullets. He didn’t bother to count the bullets, but he knew it was only a matter of moments before they all ran out.

As Carol and Lori and whoever else was in the house started to make a run for it toward the vehicles, Daryl put his attention into using the few bullets he had left to hold back the Walkers that were headed for them. He couldn’t stop them all, but he could at least do everything possible to clear a path for them.

Picking off one Walker at a time felt like it was taking a lifetime. Reloading the gun every six shots meant that Daryl felt like he was constantly holding back the flood just to have it catch him every time he stopped to reload. He focused only on what he was doing and what was in front of him. He tried not to focus on the screaming. He tried not to focus on the sound of Sophia crying. He tried to focus only on what he wanted to achieve.

He wanted to buy them time.

When the last round of the bullets was in the chambers of the revolver, Daryl tossed the bag he’d been carrying on the ground. He used the last of the six bullets to make a path for himself toward the truck that he and Carol had come in—his brother’s bike still strapped to the back. It was parked, keys in the ignition, like he’d left it. It cranked after a moment of hesitation that made him utter more than one word of profanity. 

Once he was in the truck, and not immediately exposed to the Walkers that were coming like a flood, Daryl looked around and tried to figure out what to do—where to go. 

Vehicles were leaving. He could see taillights around him. He could see them driving off the farm. People were getting out. 

Rather than drive straight down the driveway, Daryl drove through the yard of the farmhouse. He bumped Walkers out of the way as he went, searching for any signs of the living among the dead. 

With the high concentration of Walkers that had overtaken the farm, Daryl was fairly sure that there were no more living people around. He cracked the windows, listening for sounds of life. He heard when part of the structure of the barn gave way and crashed to the ground. He heard the distant sound of engines. He heard the screaming of fire and the growling of Walkers. He heard the last lonely pops of gunfire as someone, somewhere, reached the end of their fight either by losing to Walkers or by running out of bullets. 

As he turned around, heading back across the field this time, planning to cut across it and escape out the driveway, he heard something else that made him take his foot off the gas and switch it quickly to the brake.

The cry was very distinctly a cry for help. A desperate cry for help. It was so desperate, in fact, that it turned Daryl’s stomach before he even recognized the voice and before he even heard the sound of a baby’s cries echoing out over the noises around him.

Daryl rolled his window down a little so that he could see out. Letting the truck idle forward, he hung out of the window with a knife to kill any Walker that approached him. He searched as well as he could to find some evidence that he wasn’t hallucinating the sound. He had almost given up, sure that he was imagining things, when he saw the movement.

She stood out from the Walkers because she moved quickly and defensively. She didn’t move in a straight line and her struggle was evident from where Daryl was idling along. In one arm, she held the baby—and, clearly, she was losing strength—in the other she held a stick that she was brandishing like a club to try to beat back any Walker that neared her. 

Daryl turned the truck quickly to line it up with her path. He wanted her to be able to climb directly into the passenger side door, without too much effort, so that they had a chance of escaping the Walkers that were interested in consuming both mother and daughter. He wished for more of the bullets he’d spent, but there were only three in the chamber of his gun. 

To shoot in her direction and clear a path would mean that he’d have to trust his skills immensely. One slip and he’d kill her and, when she went down, the Walkers would have Sophia before he could even react.

And he’d rather turn the gun on himself.

Daryl put the truck in park and slithered across the seat. He pushed the door open and yelled at her to make sure that she saw him. He wanted her to know that he saw her. She wasn’t alone. She should keep coming—she should keep doing what she was doing. Instead of shooting in her direction, Daryl picked off the few Walkers that he thought might stumble in her direction to keep her from having to deal with more than she already had on her plate. 

By the time she reached the truck, she looked to be seconds from collapse. She could barely lift Sophia up enough—practically carrying her like a football at this point—to get her in the truck. Daryl grabbed the baby and pulled her inside before he reached across the wailing infant to grab Carol and practically drag her into the truck. She closed the door and screamed at the Walker that immediately appeared at the cracked window. 

“Hold the baby,” Daryl commanded, quickly winding his window up and changing the truck back into drive. “Could be bumpy.” 

Daryl didn’t have to tell Carol twice. She already had the miserable, screaming baby wrapped in her arms. Sophia had no way of knowing what was happening, and they had no way of explaining it to her. She was terrified, and rightly so. They were all terrified. If they hadn’t long been taught to behave a certain way, it would be entirely reasonable to expect that they’d all be screaming and crying as desperately as the baby was. 

The sinking feeling in Daryl’s stomach that he’d felt earlier—a feeling that everything was gone and all hope was gone with it—had passed. His energy was renewed now with an urgency to get as far away from the farm as possible. He navigated toward the driveway in the best way he could to avoid hitting as many Walkers as possible. The last thing he needed was a body caught up under the wheels that would jam them and stick the truck into place.

He was relieved when the tires found the driveway, and he was even more relieved when they found the pavement of the road. He drove some distance, without saying anything, until the herd started to thin and there weren’t Walkers crowding the road. When he thought it was safe for just a moment, he pulled the truck to a stop in the middle of the road and put it in park. He flicked on the interior light.

He turned to Carol. 

She was staring straight ahead, breathing hard, with Sophia wrapped in her arms. Sophia’s screaming had turned to pathetic sobbing.

“Everything OK?” Daryl asked.

“I can’t look,” Carol said. 

“What?” Daryl asked.

Carol broke down then, and released a few sobs of her own before she got them under control.

“Sophia,” she said. “I can’t—look. I don’t know if she’s OK, and I can’t look. All I could do was—keep going.” 

“You did good,” Daryl offered softly. “You did—what the hell you was supposed to do. You did everything right. Got her off the farm. Couldn’t do no better.”

“I don’t know if she’s alright,” Carol repeated, “and I’m too scared to look.” 

Daryl understood that Carol was absolutely frozen because of her fear. He reached over and slipped his fingers around the baby that was hugged against her mother’s chest. Sophia’s cries got a little louder at first, but they subsided as she accepted that it was Daryl who was touching her. 

“Shhhhh…” Daryl said, for the benefit of everyone in the cab. “Shhhh…I got’cha. Carol—open your arms. I got her.” 

Daryl pulled the little girl over to him. She went rigid for a second, so he rested her feet on his legs. She usually liked when he did that, and she would stand with him holding her. She maintained her rigidity for a second, but then she relaxed into the familiar position with his hands at her waist. And then, slowly, she stopped crying with more than a hiccupping sob and stared at him.

He turned her around and around and looked her over. He checked under her clothes, holding her up with one hand and then the other while he searched. By the time he was done, she’d calmed down in appreciation of their strange new game. 

“She’s fine,” Daryl said. “Fine—just fine. I can’t find even so much as a scratch on her.” 

“Oh, thank God…” Carol breathed out next to him. 

“I’m good. Nothin’ hardly touched me. What about you?” Daryl asked. “You bit? Scratched?” 

“No,” Carol said. “I’m fine. I don’t feel anything.”

“Lemme, see,” Daryl said. “Please.” He added.

Carol looked at him, then. She turned her body somewhat—one way and then the other. If she was bitten or scratched, there was no obvious source of blood. 

“You got some blood on your shirt,” Daryl offered.

“Splattered,” Carol said. She lifted up her shirt to show him her torso. She was clean. There was no blood on her body. Seeing her shirt lifted, too, got Sophia’s attention in a whole new way. She leaned toward Carol—practically toppling herself where Daryl was still holding her, balanced on her feet on his leg, with his hands around her ribcage. She cried out and reached toward Carol and he moved to pass her over.

“What if the blood—soaked through my clothes and she gets some of it?” Carol asked, pushing her daughter away.

“Look under the seats,” Daryl said with a laugh. “You stashed a shit ton of baby stuff under there. Bound to be some wipes or water and a cloth or somethin’ to wash you off.” 

Carol looked relieved at something so simple in the midst of so much complication and chaos. Daryl pushed Sophia toward her. “Take her. I’ma get us outta here.”

“Where are we going?” Carol asked. “Back to the highway,” Daryl said. “We gonna drive down it. Maybe that’s where everybody is. Maybe they all got out. I didn’t pay attention enough to see who left.”

Carol found something to clean herself up and then she switched the overhead light off as she got Sophia settled to soothe herself with nursing.

“I saw Patricia die,” Carol said.

Daryl’s stomach twisted. He hated the thought of losing the woman. 

“You sure like—like she’s dead?” Daryl asked.

“I’m sure,” Carol said. “I saw Andrea go down. She—she saved me and Sophia. She stopped them from getting us. We were trapped behind the house. I got away, but I saw her go down.” 

“She mighta got back up, though,” Daryl said. “You didn’t see her die?” 

“I ran,” Carol said. “She stopped them and…she went down and I just ran. I should’ve helped her.”

“You had your hands full,” Daryl said. “Besides—sounds like…” He stopped and chewed on it a moment simply because the words, though he wanted to say them, got hung somewhere. He tapped Carol and pointed to the glove box. She didn’t need more than that. She looked inside, found a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, and offered him one. She even lit it for him before she dropped the pack and lighter on the seat between them. When Daryl was sure he was ready to continue talking, he did. “Sounds like that’s what she wanted. You an’ Sophia to get the hell outta there.”

“She could be dead,” Carol said. “I didn’t even help her…and she could be dead. Or she could still be at the farm.”

“Could be,” Daryl admitted. “Or could be in one of the other cars.”

“The cars were gone, Daryl,” Carol said. “That’s why I was running…we got chased around the back of the farmhouse and by the time I made it around front, everyone was driving off.”

“We’ll find her on the highway. Watch the road—maybe she comes out any minute. But I want you to listen—it’s Andrea. And people ain’t always liked—they ain’t always liked what she’s decided, but she ain’t never really gone off half-cocked. Even when she was…even if they didn’t like what the hell she was thinkin’, she done what the hell she done ‘cause it’s what she thought was the best thing to do. She’d tell you that, too. She done what the hell she thought was best an’ she weren’t sorry for her decisions. So, if she saved you an’ Sophia? It didn’t have a thing to do with hopin’ you’d save her back. You done what the hell you was supposed to do. What she wanted you to do. You got Sophia off the farm.”

“Did you see anyone?” Carol asked.

“Plenty of people,” Daryl said. “Didn’t identify none of ‘em.” 

“Lori lost Carl,” Carol said.

“He got killed?” Daryl asked.

“He got lost,” Carol said. “I mean—she lost Carl. She couldn’t find him in the house when we were leaving. When we first made a run for it. I don’t know if she found him. Andrea and I got separated from her.” 

“Everybody’s gonna be on the highway,” Daryl offered. “We’ll find ‘em all there. Re-group. They all gonna be on the highway.”

“Daryl—what if they’re not?” Carol asked.

“Then we keep going,” Daryl offered. “Because it’s what the hell we gotta do.” 

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AN: I’m sorry for those who are canon purists and maybe wanted this to be much more according to canon. I hope you forgive me. 

It should be noted that I’m just assuming that everyone knows what Jenner said at the CDC. I’m not making a huge deal of the “we’re all infected” situation.

I hope you enjoyed! Don’t forget to let me know what you think!


	49. Chapter 49

AN: Here we are, another chapter here. 

I’ll start putting this out there. I go back to work the day after tomorrow, so I’ll be back to my regular update when I can schedule. 

I hope you all enjoy the chapter! Let me know what you think! 

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Daryl clearly wasn’t the only one to have the idea to meet back on the highway. 

Arriving there had taken far longer than Daryl had planned. There seemed to be Walkers everywhere on the road. They weren’t thick, like they had been on the farm, but they were definitely road hazards. He assumed that they were driving through the tail end of the herd that was drawn, for whatever reason, toward the farm but, for all he knew, there may be more than one herd around.

As they rode, Carol remained quiet enough that Daryl wasn’t sure if she was awake or just didn’t feel like talking. He didn’t bother her, though, because he didn’t exactly feel chatty after the events that had taken place.

After she nursed, Sophia drifted off to sleep in her mother’s arms. She was, arguably, the most resilient of all of them. She understood nothing of what had happened, and she understood nothing of the shadow of uncertainty that was cast over them as they drove through the dark Georgia countryside.

When they finally reached the highway, things were a little clearer. The road wasn’t too hard to navigate back to the snare that had caught them before. Daryl knew that, according to Hershel and Maggie, that snare was just the beginning of the traffic problems that lie ahead if they were to insist on travelling via the highway. 

For now, though, they were just headed back to a familiar place to see if they could find some familiar faces.

As they approached the traffic snare, evidence that they hadn’t been the only ones who had thought of such a thing came into view. Apparently, they’d decided to use what was left of the battery power in the wrecked cars around the snare, and they’d switched on their lights to act as a beacon to any and everyone who was making their grand escape from the farm.

Daryl pulled the truck up close enough for those gathered there to see that it was him, but not close enough to make it difficult to back out when he was ready to leave the cluster. 

“You awake?” He asked into the darkness.

“Yeah,” Carol said softly.

Daryl lit a cigarette and rolled down the window. They had the attention of the people gathered there, but nobody was really scrambling toward them. Everyone was gathered around, clustered up, and leaning on vehicles or sitting on the ground. It was dark. They were tired. They’d just been through a traumatic experience. They had nowhere to go and it was the middle of the night.

Daryl had time for a cigarette.

“Looks like we’re the last ones here,” Daryl mused.

“I don’t see Andrea,” Carol said mournfully.

Daryl’s stomach twisted. The whole trip from the farm to the highway, he’d kept his eyes on the road and the woods surrounding it. He’d hoped, unreasonably, perhaps, that Andrea would run out any moment and beg him to stop the truck to let her in. 

“I don’t see Shane,” Daryl said. “Or Jimmy.”

“Patricia,” Carol said. “I knew she wouldn’t be here, but…maybe a part of me still wanted to hope.”

“I see Carl,” Daryl said. “Lori found him.” He sucked in a breath and let it out. “Let’s go figure out what we’re doing.” He glanced over at Carol. “Hey—how’s that shoulder?” 

“What?” Carol asked.

“The shoulder,” Daryl said. “You just run a damn marathon carrying Sophia on that side. How’s your shoulder?” 

“It’s fine,” Carol said. 

Daryl laughed to himself. 

“If you was fuckin’ on fire yourself, you’d tell me you everything was fine. Pass her here, I got her for a bit.” 

Carol seemed like she might protest, but then she surprised him. Instead of fighting him on it, she moved to allow him to take the baby. He finished his cigarette and flicked the butt out the window before he gathered Sophia into his arms and got out the truck. Carol spilled out on her side and, together, they headed toward the group that was gathered in the glow of the stranded cars’ headlights.

“I think we might be the last ones,” Daryl said as they approached. “I haven’t seen any headlights and I didn’t see nobody else drivin’ out when I was leavin’. Rick—Shane was with you?” 

“Shane’s dead,” Rick said. 

“Jimmy?” Carol asked. 

“We saw him, too,” Rick said. “He didn’t make it off the farm.”

“We lost Patricia,” Lori said.

“I was there. That was before we got separated,” Carol said.

“What about Andrea?” Rick asked.

“She saved Sophia and me,” Carol said. “She went down, but…I kept going with Sophia.”

“We were hopin’ she got up,” Daryl said. “Found the road. Thought she might even be here.”

“If she went down in all that,” Lori offered, “then she didn’t make it off the farm.”

“I only saw her go down,” Carol said. “I didn’t see her die…”

“The farm was overrun,” Rick said. “If she didn’t leave in a vehicle…she probably didn’t make it back up.”

“We don’t know that,” Daryl said. “She coulda made a run for it.”

“Her lungs have been so damaged that she couldn’t handle being around the fires or…anything,” Lori said. She left the meaning behind her words—and possibly her own feelings behind them—hanging in silence.

“We’ll go back,” Daryl said. “Drive back by the farm. Make sure we didn’t miss her. Herd’ll be moving on. Thinning out.” 

“There’s no use,” Rick insisted. 

“We can’t just leave her there,” Daryl said. 

“We’re not leaving her there,” Rick said. “Listen, I know you care. We all care. But—the reality of it is that she’s not there anymore. She’s either dead—joined the herd—or she’s gone. She couldn’t stay around in that. One way or another, the farm is gone and Andrea’s gone too.” 

Daryl’s stomach ached. He knew that Rick was right. Andrea was gone. She couldn’t have simply stayed on the farm. None of them could have stayed there. If she lived, she had to run. And if she was out there, running, she probably wasn’t going to last long, but finding her without any idea of where she might be would be impossible. 

“So—she’s gone,” Daryl said. “Farm’s gone. What do we do?” 

“We keep moving,” Rick said. “Just like we were going to do before. We keep moving.” 

“The highway’s jammed up with cars,” Hershel said. “I can tell you that the next twenty or thirty miles are pretty much impassable.”

“You know any back ways?” Daryl asked.

“Back ways to what?” Hershel asked. “Back ways to where?”

Daryl laughed to himself.

“From what I’m hearing, it don’t matter. Back ways to somewhere that ain’t Atlanta and ain’t this traffic snare.” 

“People are exhausted,” Maggie offered. “We need to mourn our dead. We need to sleep and we need to eat.”

“We need to put some distance between us and that herd,” Daryl said. “That’s my input on this. Wherever the hell we go and whatever the hell we do? We need some distance between us and them. Because they on the move and the last thing we want is to sit still here long enough for them to be on top of us.”

“I know some back roads that might be clear enough to get us ten or twenty miles away before we hit something impassable,” Hershel said. 

“Good enough,” Rick said. “Let’s go as far as we can get. Then we’ll talk about—eating and sleeping. As for mourning the dead? Everyone’s just going to have to do that while we’re in the cars.”

While Daryl might not like the idea that they were blindly going toward nothing they could identify, he didn’t have any answers at the moment that were any better than the ones they already had. They had to get away from the herd. They needed distance between them and the mass of Walkers that was currently migrating—or whatever Walkers did—and then, maybe, they could figure something out. 

“Hershel—you gonna lead?” Daryl asked.

The old man simply nodded his head and took his people back toward the vehicle. When Daryl moved back toward the truck, Carol did so without him having to tell her that they were going. In the truck, he passed Sophia back to her, lit another cigarette for himself, and cranked the truck to prepare to fall in line once the caravan started moving.

“Where are we going?” Carol asked.

“Hell if I know,” Daryl said. “We’ll go as far as Hershel can take us and then…”

“That’s what I’m mostly worried about,” Carol said, “the ‘and then’ part. If we’re being honest? We didn’t know where we were going before.”

“I imagine Rick’s gonna pick back up with what he wanted before,” Daryl said. “He’s gonna wanna go to Washington. Look for civilization. People.”

“I think we just saw what happens to large groups of people, Daryl,” Carol said. “We know we’re not the only ones left, sure, but I don’t know…if I expect Washington to just be functioning. I don’t know if I can just believe they forgot about Georgia.” 

Daryl laughed to himself. 

“They ain’t just forgot about Georgia,” Daryl said. “And I said that’s what Rick’s gonna want to do. I didn’t say it was a good idea or that there weren’t nobody gonna fight him on it.” 

“What do you think is best?” Carol asked. 

Sophia started to wake. She could sleep pretty solidly, but as soon as she was done sleeping, she was simply done. She hadn’t slept long this time, so she was either wet or hungry. There would be a need to which they needed to attend. Daryl reached and switched on the overhead light. 

They had been lucky that Carol had hoarded baby things like a squirrel. There were still items in the back of the truck. There were items stuck behind the seats and under the seats. Daryl wouldn’t have been surprised to pull down the sun visor and have a half a dozen, neatly-folded cloth diapers drop into his lap.

And he was completely thankful that Carol had hoarded everything they’d found on the highway in the way that she had because, for at least a moment, they didn’t have to worry about Sophia’s needs. 

“The best thing we can do,” Daryl said. “Is start focusin’ on buildin’ a damn life somewhere. The first things we need are the things we’ve needed since we started. They’re what we’ve been after on every run. We need food. We need water. And we’re gonna need some shelter that keeps us from spendin’ the rest of our damned lives in cars.”

“What we needed,” Carol said, “was the farm. But—it’s gone, Daryl.”

“And it weren’t the only damned farm in the world,” Daryl said. “Hell—I was sold on stayin’ on that farm forever. Hershel was all warmed up to the idea of watchin’ Sophia grow up. Way he was talkin’ about it, I figured by the winter he’d be ready for me to bring it up about getting a little piece of that land to put a house on. Nothing too big or too fancy, of course. I ain’t no master carpenter, but Hershel can build pretty well. Just somethin’ to live in. Have room for Sophia—maybe a couple more if…if we needed the space. I was as sold on that farm as anybody else. But all the hell it means now is that we know what kinda life we like. We know what kinda possibilities there are. We don’t need Washington and we don’t need a city.”

“We just need a little farm,” Carol said.

“Grow some vegetables,” Daryl said. “Fruit trees. Raise livestock. Somewhere that’s got some wells—they all over around here.”

“And then it all gets taken away again,” Carol said. “You can—turn the light off.”

“What?” Daryl asked.

“The light,” Carol said. “Sophia’s clean. You can turn the light off. I’ve got wipes for now but—I’ll have to wash her diapers and I didn’t put more clothes in here…”

“We’ll find something,” Daryl said. “Where we can wash clothes an’ look for more stuff.”

“And lose it all again,” Carol said. “Daryl—it feels so hopeless. All of it. The farm? All of it’s gone now.”

“So, we build better fences,” Daryl said. “We build walls.”

“You’re not worried you’re being overly optimistic?” Carol asked. “Daryl—what if this is as good as it gets? What if there’s no future beyond hopping from place to place?”

Daryl laughed to himself as a wave of nervousness flowed through him. He helped himself to another cigarette and focused on the taillights in front of him. When he was finally ready to speak again, he did.

“I ain’t never been this—focused on the future before in my life,” Daryl said. “We might be hoppin’ from place to place for a while, but that’s just while we’re lookin’ for what we need. We find it and we’re there for good. We’ll make it better than the farm was.” 

Carol sat quietly and played with Sophia. She’d found, in her items, what appeared to be a plastic doughnut and Sophia seemed to enjoy alternating between biting it and trying to convince Carol to bite it. Daryl sat for a moment and simply listened to Sophia’s happy babble.

“Mighta lost the whole damn farm,” Daryl said. “Lost—people we cared about. But we ain’t lost everything. There’s a future.” 

“Daryl?” Carol said quietly. He hummed at her. “Were you—really going to ask Hershel if you could…have some of his land to build a house?” 

“Yeah,” Daryl admitted. He hadn’t exactly meant to say that, because he hadn’t talked to anyone but the rabbits about it while he’d been hauling them around looking for more to add to his sack, but he’d said it and he wasn’t going back on it. 

“A house for—you, and me, and Sophia?” Carol asked. Daryl hummed again. 

“You pissed I was thinkin’ that?” Daryl asked. 

Carol laughed to herself. 

“No,” she said. “No. I’m not pissed at all.”


	50. Chapter 50

AN: Here we are, another chapter here!

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

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Hershel was able to get them several more miles away from the farm than he’d anticipated he would be able to take them. He could have taken them further, but he chose the point where he thought it was best to stop. They followed him as he pulled off the road at a farmhouse that, though it wasn’t anywhere near as impressive as his farm had been, would be enough to shelter them while they slept, got something to eat, and took the opportunity to regroup.

“Stay in the truck a minute,” Daryl said as he got out. “Just in case it ain’t clear.”

Carol didn’t argue and it was pretty clear that he hadn’t been the only one to issue the request. Hershel, Glenn, Rick, and T-Dog joined him on the grass outside the little farmhouse.

“We oughta keep going,” Rick said.

“To where, exactly?” Daryl asked. Rick stared at him. “Exactly, Rick. We got nowhere to go right now. We’ll move on tomorrow, like we usually do. But for now—we oughta stop here.”

“It’s not even dark,” Rick pointed out. “It’s the middle of the day.”

“We need water,” Hershel said. “Food. Baths. Rest. Whether or not you think we need it? We need time to mourn our dead.”

“We need time to mourn everything we lost,” Daryl said. “And the light makes it easier to make sure the place is clean. Gives me some chance at gettin’ us somethin’ to eat that don’t come out a can.”

“I knew the people who lived here,” Hershel said. “The house has been empty since the first signs of the outbreak. They died pretty early on.”

“And you cleared ‘em out or they still in there?” Daryl asked.

“They were removed by the authorities,” Hershel said. 

“So, you’re really talking about the beginning of this whole thing,” Daryl offered.

“They were some of the first around here that we heard about,” Hershel said. “I knew them from church. They would have gladly given us shelter.”

“And we’ll gladly take it,” Daryl offered. “If it’s all the same, I’d rather we checked the house first, though. Just to make sure that it’s really completely empty.”

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Daryl was pleased with the deer that he got. He normally preferred to kill bucks and let does go on to live their lives, but he’d been hunting for anything that stumbled into his line of sight. The doe would feed them and it would sit nicely in their bellies with everything they’d found in the cupboards. 

People were upset, tired, and hungry. Daryl couldn’t take anyone’s feelings of loss, anger, or fear, but he could fill their bellies. At least they could grieve on a full stomach. 

As he cleaned and butchered the deer, he wondered what became of Andrea. Her loss made his stomach ache in an uncomfortably familiar way. He preferred the loss of Patricia over the loss of Andrea. They had seen her bitten—torn apart. They knew she was dead. It was horrible, and it was tragic, but the book was closed. Patricia had lived and, in the short amount of time that Daryl had known her, she had been a good person to know. Then, she had died. The same could be said for Jimmy. He’d been just a kid, but he was gone now. They knew that.

Andrea’s loss, though, stirred up everything inside him.

She was simply gone. There was no body. There had been no one present to see her die. She was just there, and then she was gone. They would never see her again. The book would never be closed. 

Without the opportunity to have some guarantees and to experience true closure, Daryl could always sort of pretend that she wasn’t really dead. He could somewhat imagine that she might have escaped mortality in some way. Rather than being comforting, though, it simply left him with the gnawing feeling in his gut that he’d felt before, in his life, when people had simply been there and been gone—and he’d just had to take someone’s word for it that they were no longer in the world or else he’d simply been confronted by their absence.

Daryl preferred death—absolute, complete, and witnessed—to uncertainty.

And he much preferred life to death.

“How long do you think it’s going to take on the deer?” Rick asked, approaching.

“How’s the fire comin’?” Daryl asked. 

The house was clean. It would put a roof over their heads and it would put walls around them to keep them safe during the night as long as a herd didn’t come through. It had a well with a pump out back. They could clear the house out to replace some of the supplies that they had lost at the farm. It was good for a night, and maybe even two nights if they wanted to stretch things. It certainly wasn’t Hershel’s farm, though, and they were back to bathing with water heated over the fire that they would also cook over.

“Burning,” Rick said. “Pump’s in good working order. Hershel has everyone filling up any jugs and anything we can find to take with us.” 

“Good idea,” Daryl said. “Gonna take me at least another hour on this deer. Gettin’ it cut up as fast as I can with what the hell I got.” 

“Lori’s pregnant,” Rick said.

Daryl laughed to himself.

“Tell me somethin’ I don’t know. Is that gonna affect the outcome with this deer in some way?” Daryl asked. 

“Can I just—talk to you?” Rick asked.

“This one of them heart-to-hearts I heard so much about?” Daryl asked. Rick frowned at him. The deer wasn’t going anywhere, and neither was Daryl. Rick had him as a captive audience. “Go ahead.”

“She’s not talking to me,” Rick said. “After what happened with Shane.”

“You mean…?” Daryl started. He stopped because he didn’t exactly want to knock off any scabs that might be forming over wounds he knew had to be there. 

“I killed Shane. Carl put him down,” Rick said.

“It’s what the hell I been tryin’ to do for a few days,” Daryl said, as much to himself as to Rick. “But I suppose my reasoning was a hell of a lot different than yours.” 

“I killed him because he was dangerous,” Rick said. 

“He’s been dangerous,” Daryl said.

“He had gone crazy,” Rick said.

“Been done that, too,” Daryl pointed out.

“I killed him because he was a threat and he tried to kill me,” Rick said. “It was self-defense.”

“I’m sure all that was your motivation for what you done,” Daryl said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Rick asked.

“Hell if I really know,” Daryl admitted. “Listen—I’m sure you had your reasons to kill fuckin’ Shane. I’m sure we gonna at least pretend that it don’t have shit to do with Lori. I get it. I had a reason to kill Shane and the only damn reason I wanted the asshole dead was Carol. I mean—I wanted him dead so he didn’t bother nobody else, but Carol was my main concern. If he’da got after her again, I’da had to kill him. And if he’da gone after Sophia to go after Carol? I’da gutted him like this damned deer right here. So, I ain’t crawlin’ your ass about killin’ him. I’m glad you saved me the effort. But you might as well tell the damn truth about why you done it.”

“I killed him because he was a threat,” Rick said.

“Yeah—well, it ain’t the whole truth,” Daryl said. “But it’ll do for now.”

“Lori isn’t speaking to me,” Rick said.

Daryl snorted.

“Just when you think you’re at your lowest point, miracles happen,” Daryl said.

“Daryl…”

Daryl laughed to himself.

“Look—I appreciate whatever the fuck this is. The whole—comradery thing, but I don’t know what the hell you want from me. When I needed you on my side, Rick? You were on Shane’s side.” 

“I wasn’t on Shane’s side,” Rick said. “I was on the side of whoever was right in the situation. I needed time to consider things. You can’t make snap judgements.”

“You gotta make snap judgments,” Daryl said. “That’s how the hell we stay alive. If I’da sat and contemplated the pros and cons of killing this doe, the possible impact on the future population of the area, and some possible moral dilemmas over whether or not I had the right to decide she dies for us to live? We’da been eatin’ nothin’ but shit outta cans tonight because she’da been gone by the time I finished going in circles. At the end of the day, you didn’t believe Carol because Lori didn’t want you to believe Carol.”

“I didn’t not believe her, either,” Rick said. “I just needed more time.”

“And then the asshole tried to kill you,” Daryl said. “Right? Fuck, Rick—how long did you think about it before you handcuffed my fuckin’ brother to a roof? How long did you weigh everything out before you left him for fuckin’ dead so he didn’t have no choice but to saw his damned hand off with a hacksaw and go wanderin’ alone through the streets of Atlanta?” 

“Merle was a threat to the whole group,” Rick said. 

“And so was Shane,” Daryl offered.

“Merle was violent,” Rick said. “He would have gone after anyone.”

“And it was OK as long as it was Shane and he was just goin’ after Carol,” Daryl challenged. 

“I didn’t ask to be put in a position to make these decisions,” Rick said.

“No, you didn’t ask nothin’,” Daryl said. “You just put yourself in that position.”

“You want to be the leader?” Rick asked.

“You say that like you about to say that you don’t care. That you’d be happy if someone lifted this burden off your shoulders or some shit like that. But you and me both know it ain’t true, Rick, so don’t even bother sayin’ it. You like bein’ in charge so damned much that you nearly pushed Hershel outta his own damn house. If the Walkers hadn’t took it, the Grimes family would have, right?”

“I thought we could work together, Daryl,” Rick said.

“I’m not working against you,” Daryl offered. “Just because you don’t like the truth? That doesn’t mean that I’m doing you some injustice by telling it.”

“There aren’t that many of us left,” Rick said. “We need to work together. Lori is mad at me about Shane. I don’t think Hershel blames me personally but…he’s mad about the farm. About the lives that were lost. I didn’t have anything to do with the herd.”

“Look—I’m sure that one day I’ma enjoy these heart-to-heart talks or whatever kinda bonding we’re supposed to do be doing here,” Daryl said. “But right now? I’m still pissed off. And I gotta have some time to be fuckin’ pissed off, Rick.” 

“Fine,” Rick said. “I just—wanted to say that it would mean a lot to me if everyone were to help support Lori right now. She’s pregnant and—it isn’t easy. And she won’t let me get too close at the moment.”

Daryl laughed to himself.

“Yeah, and it woulda meant a lot to Carol if anybody had been supportin’ her ass back at the rock quarry when all she got was shit about Sophia crying,” Daryl said. “And it woulda meant a lot to her if you’da supported her ass when Shane turned her black and blue and got away with that shit. But I’ma break my back bendin’ over to support Lori.”

“I understand that you’re angry, Daryl,” Rick said. “And I’m going to give you time to…to deal with that. And I hope that we’re able to get past it.”

“We gonna get past it, but it ain’t gonna be tonight,” Daryl said. “Tomorrow’s not lookin’ real good, either.”

“Don’t let your feelings for me get in the way of you helping Lori,” Rick said.

Daryl laughed to himself.

“Don’t worry, it’s primarily my feelings for Lori that get in the way of me wantin’ to do shit for her,” Daryl said. “She made this bed, Rick. Same as anybody else. Now she’s gotta lie in it.”

“She’s pregnant,” Rick said. “And Carl’s a growing child.”

“And Sophia’s a growin’ baby,” Daryl said. “And Carol’s been puttin’ out milk for her and you know as I good as I do that it’s gotta come from somewhere. I’m sorry, man. You come to me lookin’ for—sympathy or whatever the hell you’re needin’ right now? Absolution or some shit? I’m fresh out. Now—I’ma finish butcherin’ this deer and then I’ma take it over for Carol to cook up. And everybody’s gonna eat—yours, mine, and ours. I’m not an asshole. I might not bend over backwards for your wife an’ kid, but I won’t treat ‘em bad. Not like you done…”

Daryl stopped short. He stopped the split second before the word left his mouth. His blood ran a little cold in his veins when he realized how close he came to saying it and how much he really meant it. A second longer and it would have escaped. 

Mine.

But Carol and Sophia weren’t his. 

“Not like you done…Carol and Sophia,” Daryl said. “I’ma be fuckin’ angry until I’m not. But—I’m not an asshole like Shane woulda had you think I am.”

Rick stood there a moment in silence. Finally, though, he seemed to accept what Daryl had said. Maybe he accepted that there was no way to change Daryl’s mind and the offer to feed his family and to be as civil as possible until he’d had a chance to cool down and let his anger pass was as good of an offer as he was going to get. 

“Thanks,” was all Rick offered before he simply turned and walked away.

Daryl watched him go, and then he returned to his work with the deer.


	51. Chapter 51

AN: Here we are, another chapter.

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

11111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111

Carol shook Daryl gently when the sounds he was making in his sleep went from being muffled mumbles to louder complaints. Though she could understand nothing of the words that his unconscious self was clearly trying to say, she could understand that whatever was prompting them was not pleasant for Daryl.

He awoke with a start and Carol immediately pressed her hand against his shoulder to soothe him a little. 

“The fuck happened?” He asked, looking around. 

The farmhouse was not as large as Hershel’s, but there were enough rooms to allow for some privacy. Daryl and Carol had easily gotten a room for themselves because of the fact that Sophia’s sleeping schedule wasn’t appreciated by most people who wanted a full night of uninterrupted sleep. For the time being, Sophia slept peacefully on a pallet on the floor that they’d made with the cushion out of a small two-seater couch they’d found on the closed-in back porch.

Carol had only recently put Sophia back down to sleep since the last time the baby had her up. It was during the time that she’d been tending to Sophia that she’d noticed that Daryl was struggling with something in his sleep. She had waited, with the lamp burning, to see how badly things would escalate and whether or not she might need to wake him.

“Nothing happened,” Carol said softly. “We’re all fine. We’re in a farmhouse, remember? Someone Hershel used to know lived here.”

Daryl’s breathing was heavy, but it was slowing down. His feelings from whatever he’d been dreaming were clearly a little residual.

“Sophia…” Daryl said.

“Shhhh,” Carol crooned at him. She moved closer to him to wrap herself around him and comfort him physically. “She’s fine. She’s sleeping. She was just having a snack not long before I woke you. What were you dreaming about?” 

“What?” Daryl asked, still somewhat looking around the room with a general air of sleepiness. 

“Your dream or—nightmare from the sound of it,” Carol said. “What was it? Do you want to talk about it?” 

She reached over and offered Daryl one of the bottles of water from the nightstand on her side of the bed. He mumbled a thanks as he took the bottle. He drank down about half of it before he returned it to her so that she could put it back. Then he ran his fingers through his hair. 

“It was Andrea,” Daryl said. “I mean—it was all of us, but it was…Andrea.”

Daryl got out of the bed. He didn’t bother looking for his underwear or his pants or anything else to put on. Sophia was too young to know what she saw if she woke and it wasn’t as though he and Carol hadn’t practically put each other to sleep with a long and lazy time spent with their bodies locked together. She wasn’t offended in the slightest by his naked form—just as he wasn’t insisting that she put anything on or cover herself with the blankets.

Daryl did find his cigarettes and lighter, and he stood by the open window and looked out at the darkness. 

“We was back at the farm,” Daryl said.

“All of us?” Carol asked.

“You, me, Sophia, Andrea,” Daryl counted off. “Fuck if I know if anybody else was there, but they didn’t matter. We ain’t had no car. Nothin’. Everything around us was on fire. I mean it was the farm ‘cause I just knew—you know? I knew that’s where we were, but there weren’t no reason for me to think it was the farm. The Walkers were fuckin’ everywhere. And I had Sophia an’ you—we were runnin’ from ‘em. And—you said you got a clear path so I was gonna give you Soph. I was gonna give you Soph an’ you an’ Soph was gonna go. I was gonna save Andrea.”

Carol got up from her place on the bed and walked over to where Daryl was smoking. She pressed her body against him from behind to offer him some comfort that his tone of voice told her he needed. She kissed his back and he shivered at the sensation of her lips touching angry scars, but he didn’t ask her to stop. Carol felt his muscles relaxing a little beneath the embrace.

“It was a dream,” Carol said. “You got me and Sophia off the farm, remember?” 

“In the dream you took Sophia and when I turned around? You were just—gone. I didn’t know if you got away or got—got sucked up in the fire. But you were supposed to go so I could get Andrea. She was overrun and I was gonna get her. Had my hand on her. Had her hand. Pullin’ her.” 

Carol kissed his back when she felt the muscles tense again, and she ran her fingers over his chest. 

“It was just a dream,” she offered. 

“I couldn’t help her ‘cause—suddenly she was just gone. Her hand was in mine and then she was just gone. Not there anymore. It was just me and Walkers and everybody was gone. I didn’t know if she got eat up by the Walkers or—if she got burned up to nothin’ and I just remembered holdin’ her hand. Lookin’ for every damn body that was gone.” 

“It wasn’t you who let Andrea down,” Carol offered. “It was me.”

“It was fuckin’ all of us,” Daryl offered. “The worst fuckin’ part is the just—bein’ gone.”

“Losing people is hard,” Carol agreed.

Daryl turned, lifting his arm, so that Carol would be against his chest and not his back. She understood what he was trying to do, so she turned with him. 

“It’s not the losin’ that I’m talking about,” Daryl said, dropping the hand not holding his cigarette over Carol’s back and gently trailing his fingers over her skin. “I mean—hell, yeah, the losin’ is hard and all, and it makes for some long damn nights, but that’s not the hardest part. At least not for me. We got any of that whiskey left?” 

Carol laughed to herself. 

The person who had owned the house had an extensive liquor cabinet. Without asking anyone if they cared, Daryl had confiscated a full bottle of whiskey and some small tumblers out of the kitchen. The entire collection of items sat on the dresser. Carol had drunk barely a finger of whiskey from one of the glasses and Daryl hadn’t had much more than that. 

“Like—a whole bottle,” Carol offered.

“I could really use a fuckin’ drink right now,” Daryl said.

Though he wasn’t directly asking her to serve him, Carol let go of him and did just that. She poured more into the tumbler than she imagined he would want, and she poured another finger of the brown liquid for herself. She brought it to him and he thanked her before he tasted it, swallowing down a decent amount.

“If it’s not losing people that’s the worst part,” Carol said, “then I’m not sure I know what the worst part is…”

“Fuckin’—they just gone,” Daryl said. He used the cigarette he was smoking, having nearly sucked it down to nothing, to light another before he snubbed it out in the bowl on the windowsill he was using as an ashtray. “I ain’t told you everything about my life.”

“You haven’t told me much at all,” Carol said, leaning against the wall so she could face him. “But I’d love to know more about you, Daryl.” 

“There ain’t too damn much that makes a decent bedtime story,” he offered. 

“I know about your…old man,” Carol offered, catching herself before she accidentally used the word “daddy” as a knee-jerk way of referring to Daryl’s father.

“You don’t know that he died in an accident,” Daryl said. “Burned mostly up. Had us identify him by a scar he had right here. From losin’ his kidney when he was younger. Weren’t much left of him so they was like you don’t wanna see what the hell is left. You ain’t gonna hardly know what it is no way. We took their word for it. Weren’t like I gave a shit, you know? Weren’t like I was gonna fuckin’ miss him. Nobody on the whole damn Earth missed his sorry ass.”

“It’s OK if you did—not miss him, but…it’s OK if it made you sad,” Carol said. “Upset. Even if you were just missing what you wished he was.”

Daryl laughed to himself. He drank down another relatively large swallow of the whiskey and Carol made up her mind right then and there that she’d let him have as much as he wanted—and she’d drive the next day if they decided to move on while he napped. She wasn’t going to even suggest that he not look for whatever comfort he was searching for at the moment.

“That’s about all the hell I mighta done,” Daryl offered. “Damnedest thing was that he was always such a damned asshole. A fuckin’ dark cloud in my life. Then he was just gone. Nothin’.”

“I’m sure that was hard,” Carol offered.

He hummed to himself. 

“My Ma was gone before him,” Daryl said. He laughed to himself. “She burned herself up. House fire. Whole place was gone and there weren’t nothin’ left of her except—shit that don’t burn too good. Only difference was I missed her.” 

“You loved her,” Carol offered.

Daryl shrugged his shoulders. 

“She was my Ma,” Daryl said. “And she was soft-like. You know? Hell—she kept him off of us with every damn thing she had. I didn’t know how damn much she done until she weren’t there no more. She was just gone. There that mornin’ and then…gone.” 

Carol swallowed down repeatedly against the ache in her throat. She stepped forward and wrapped herself around him again. She could still sip her whiskey, and he could still drink and smoke, but at least she could be close to him.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“My whole sorry fuckin’ life up in flames,” Daryl said. He laughed to himself and Carol heard as he swallowed. “That’s what they call a metaphor, isn’t it? My whole damn life just burnin’ down to—ashes. But the worst part was the bein’ there an’ then not bein’ there. Like you don’t see ‘em go. They just gone. Like I saw ‘em and then I never saw ‘em again. It was like they never even happened. Like I made it all up. Made them up. Maybe made up that they was dead.”

Carol squeezed him in a hug and then backed away from him enough to take the glass and pour some more whiskey into it. He thanked her when she handed it back to him.

“You never got closure,” Carol said. He hummed at her.

“Then I fuckin’ lost Merle,” Daryl said. “He was a sonofabitch, and I know that don’t nobody miss Merle…”

“But he was your brother,” Carol said. 

Daryl shrugged his shoulders.

“And Jacqui blew herself up at the CDC and now Andrea’s just…gone,” Daryl said.

“It’s understandable, Daryl, that what happened to Andrea has stirred up a lot of feelings in you,” Carol said. 

“You a shrink now?” Daryl asked with a laugh. 

“No,” Carol said. “But—you cared for her. And she cared for you. She’s gone, and we don’t know if she’s alive or dead…”

“She’s fuckin’ dead,” Daryl said. “They all are. I could go on pretendin’ that they alive ‘cause my brain don’t know for sure they dead, but they’re all dead. Worst damn part about that fuckin’ dream was that I thought you and Soph were gone, too. Just—gone.”

Carol smiled at him. She shook her head.

“No,” she crooned softly. “No. We’re not gone. And we’re not going anywhere. We’re not..we won’t leave you, Daryl. Not if I have any control over it. Not if you—if you don’t want us to.”

Daryl looked at her a long moment and then he looked into the glass at the brown liquid. He swished it around before he took a swallow into his mouth and held it. Then he swallowed it down slowly.

“I almost called you an’ Sophia ‘mine’ today when I was talkin’ to Rick. He was talkin’ about Lori and Carl and—how Lori’s pregnant. I told him I wouldn’t treat his wife and kids bad; you know? I told him…I wouldn’t treat ‘em like he treated…but then I stopped. Before I said the word, but I almost said it.”

His words hit Carol hard in the chest. Her heart responded by pounding against her sternum. Her stomach churned a little at the thought.

“You almost called me and Sophia your—wife and child?” Carol asked.

Daryl frowned dramatically at the contents of his glass.

“Not—maybe not. Not that I was thinking about it all that clear. Just—just mine. That’s how I was mostly thinking about it. I almost called you mine. I didn’t,” he said. “Because it weren’t true.”

“Because you don’t want it to be true?” Carol asked.

“Because it ain’t true,” Daryl said.

“But—would you want it to be true?” Carol asked.

“It ain’t,” Daryl said. “Don’t matter what I want, really.”

Carol laughed to herself. He’d had quite a bit of whiskey in the passing moments and, perhaps, it was going to his head just a little. He snubbed out the cigarette but made no move to go back to bed. She imagined he would continue smoking and drinking for a little while longer. She stepped forward and reached a hand up to touch his cheek.

“Daryl—I could be yours, if you wanted,” Carol offered. 

Daryl looked at her and furrowed his brow.

“You would want that?” He asked. “To be like—my woman?” 

“I thought I was,” Carol said. “Maybe. With everything. Until—you’re letting me know that I’m not. You don’t want that?” 

Daryl touched her face in the same way she was touching his.

“I want it,” Daryl said. “I want—you.”

Carol smiled to herself, remember his words the first night that they’d been together. 

“Then you have me,” Carol said. 

“You mean that?” Daryl asked.

“Daryl—I love you,” Carol offered softly. “Of course, I mean that.”

Daryl visibly swallowed. He shifted his weight. 

“I love you, too,” he said, his voice shaking just a bit. 

“Sophia loves you, too,” Carol said. 

“But she won’t never be mine,” Daryl said. 

“She already is, too,” Carol said with a smile. “Maybe—you haven’t realized it yet, and maybe…we haven’t put a name to it, but, Daryl? She loves you and she doesn’t know that you’re not her Daddy.” 

Daryl dropped his hand and backed up half a step like he was staggered.

“Daddy?” He asked.

Carol immediately felt a little panicked. She’d said too much.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “You don’t want…”

“No,” Daryl said. “I mean—yes. I mean—fuck. I wanna be her Daddy but…hell it’s a hell of a thing to think I’m somebody’s old man. I don’t got what the hell it takes to be an old man.”

“You might not have what it takes to be an old man,” Carol said. “But, Daryl, you’ve been a Daddy from the moment that you put your life on the line to save Sophia from an infection. Maybe even before that.”

“Ed’s her old man, though,” Daryl said.

“He was,” Carol said. “But he’s dead, and she never really knew him. You’re her Daddy, and she loves you—if you want to be.” 

Daryl frowned and immediately brought his thumb to his mouth to bother it for a moment. He shook his head.

“I’m not good enough for all that,” he said.

“You’re plenty good for everything,” Carol said. “Everything and—anything you want. You’re as good as anyone else. Better.” 

Carol brought his thumb away from his mouth with her hands and he came forward and kissed her quickly and hard. 

“I love you,” he breathed out when the kiss broke. “I love you. I love you,” he repeated like he couldn’t stop the words once they’d started coming. “I love you and I love Sophia.”

“And we love you,” Carol offered. “So—if you want to tell Rick that—that we’re yours? You can do that, Daryl. We wouldn’t have it any other way.” 

“You really mean that?” Daryl asked. 

“I could ask you the same thing,” Carol offered. “If you were really sure that…you wanted me. Sophia. We’re a lot of trouble. Far more than we’re worth.” 

“There’s some stuff you don’t know about me,” Daryl said.

“I want to know it all,” Carol breathed out. “But it won’t change anything.”

“It might,” Daryl said. 

“It won’t,” Carol assured him.

“I can be honest about my family but—I don’t like when nobody else talks about ‘em,” Daryl said. “Especially if they tellin’ lies.” 

“OK,” Carol said.

Daryl smiled at her, the corner of his mouth barely turning upward.

“So, you better stop sayin’ that you both more trouble than you worth,” Daryl said. “Because I don’t like it.” 

Carol laughed, realizing that he was teasing her. She was happy to hear it. She was also happy for the lightheadedness that came from the combination of the small amount of whiskey she’d drank and the declarations that had taken place in the lamplit room. 

“Daryl,” Carol said. He hummed at her. “I think—it’s time you took me to bed. Claimed what’s yours—and I’m right here.”


End file.
